Dark Nights
by Silverspoon
Summary: "Don't send me no angel, This city's too cold, Cause I need a man with a black heart of gold." In order to protect the ones we love, there is nothing we won't do - nothing we won't become. (Skyeward)
1. Chapter 1

**__**Hey guys, this is our new multi-chap fic. It's going to be an AU version of Season 2, and we'll be focusing on both a main story arc, and also on stand alone 'monster of the week' episodes.**__**

 ** _ _ **Just to clarify - it's set during the fall of SHIELD and the Hydra reveal.**__**

 ** _ _ **We hope you're going to like it!**__**

* * *

 ** _ _ **My Boy Builds Coffins**__**

 ** _ _ **Part One**__**

 ** _ _ **Massachusetts, 1999**__**

It had been a middle aged man wearing a suit and a kind smile that had changed his life forever, which was the absolute last thing he had come to expect. His experience of men in suits consisted of wealthy politicians who told so many lies that it must have been hard for them to keep their own names straight, and equally wealthy lawyers who only ever smiled the kind of smile that a snake preparing to devour its own young might. One thing was certain - in fifteen years he had never met a man like Philip Coulson, who disarmed him of his overtly hostile teenage delinquent attitude so quickly that it was embarrassing.

Throughout the whole meeting, Coulson munched his way through a bag of strawberry bonbons, pausing every so often to offer one to Grant, who dismissed the question each time with a scowl. Coulson never seemed perturbed, continuing to chew and talk and grin and loosen the tie around his neck as though they were two old friends chatting over lunch, as opposed to a government agent and a pre-conviction juvenile offender. The entire thing was perhaps the strangest moment of Grant's life, but also one of the most interesting, dare he admit it.

"Why are you here?" he asked, for what seemed to be the tenth or eleventh successive time. He rolled his wrists around, trying to hide his grimace as the handcuffs dug into his skin.

"You want me to get someone to loosen those?" the man, Agent Coulson as he had presented himself, inquired. He cocked his head often when he spoke, Grant noted, and although there was an undeniable air of danger clinging to him, his voice was pleasantly soft.

"Look, whoever you are, I don't need your help, okay? I can take care of myself," Grant insisted, leaning back in his seat and gripping the edge of the desk as he pointedly avoided the older man's gaze.

Instead of the argument he'd been expecting, Grant watched with curiosity as the man simply shook his head and peered at him so intently that it made him uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Yes, you do, Grant. You're fifteen years old, you're just a kid. Life's dealt you a pretty crappy hand, and I'm here to offer you a new one. But it's all up to you."

Screwing up his nose, the teenager tried desperately to push away his supposed saviour, "And why do you wanna help me, huh? What are you, some middle-aged pervert?"

Coulson laughed, chewing and swallowing the candy in his mouth with a flourish. "Have you heard of S.H.I.E.L.D., Grant?" he asked, pushing a business card across the table. It was adorned with the insignia of an eagle and a long list of words that Grant hadn't the inclination to read.

"No. What is it? Like, boot camp?" he asked, his curiosity aroused somewhat.

Shaking his head, Coulson rummaged into a battered briefcase before he threw down a wallet containing what Grant assumed was an explanation of this S.H.I.E.L.D. organisation.

"We're a government organisation that protects the world from threats of an… unusual nature. I want you to join our academy, Grant."

Grant raised both eyebrows at once, his fingertips teasing the edges of the plastic folder. "Oh, yeah? And why the fuck would you want me?"

"First of all, language!" Coulson scolded with a frown, shaking his head disparagingly, although his demeanour almost instantly softened again. "Look Grant, you're a smart kid. You test way above average in school, you scored in the top three percent in your state in aptitude tests, you've got a natural talent for languages, and… a rage inside you that I can help you learn to control and use for good."

"So… you wanna be like my Yoda?" Grant demanded, shaking his head as though not comprehending why a complete stranger would be offering him such an opportunity. After all, his own mother, the woman who had given him life, had already washed her hands of him.

Smiling at the pop culture reference, Coulson nodded, "Something like that. I believe in second chances, Grant. And I believe you can become a remarkable young man if you want to, you just need a little guidance… and someone to take care of you. So, there it is… what's it gonna be?"

Grant considered the offer for a few moments, head bowed and eyes trained on the folder he had yet to reach for. The sound of the overhead lights humming and a soda can clattering from the vending machine in the corner of the room competed for his attention, but Grant remained focused on the words printed on the cover, his jaw tensing.

"What if I say no?" he suggested, his voice quiet and harbouring a sullen undertone that almost brought a chuckle past Coulson's lips. "What if I refuse? What then? You going to kill me because I know too much?"

Coulson actually did laugh at that, screwing closed the paper bag of candy and jamming them back into the breast pocket of his jacket as he shook his head.

"You like watching movies, huh?" he guessed, not awaiting a response from the boy, who was flushing crimson. "This is completely your choice, Grant. If you say 'no' then I disappear, and everything returns to what accounts to normal for you but… I don't think that's what you really want."

Once again determined to push as many buttons as possible, Grant pushed the folder towards him with a determined shove. "And how do you know what I want? You know shit about me."

Coulson stood up, nodding as if in agreement as he picked up the folder and placed it back into his briefcase. "I know that you're scared and alone… and you just want somewhere to belong… for people to be kind to you. You want what every kid wants. That's not too much to ask for."

Coulson held his gaze for only a moment longer, before he offered Grant his hand, "It was nice to meet you, Grant. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Lingering for a moment in hopes that the boy would change his mind, Coulson took longer than necessary to gather his belongings and begin to walk away from the table.

He'd taken three abnormally slow steps before a voice finally called out after him.

"I want it. I want a second chance."

And in that moment, the course of Grant Ward's life changed forever.

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** _ _ **Providence, 2014**__**

The cold was beginning to numb the tips of his fingers, despite the thick gloves he wore, and Grant stamped his feet hard against the packed snow in a bid to send a jolt of warmth through his body. Finally, the grey metal door in front of him began to slide open, albeit painfully slowly.

Taking an anticipatory step forwards, Grant couldn't help the smile that found its way across his lips. There had been more than one moment since he had left for the Fridge during which he had thought he might not make it back to the team, and so to be once again so close to them brought him not only immense relief but also an overwhelming sense of gratitude to whomever might be watching over them. It was a scarcely contemplated topic for Grant but one that he was almost loathed to admit occasionally permeated his thoughts. Sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder if there was someone else responsible for the second chance he had been granted, beyond a kindly S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who hadn't wanted to leave a young and terrified boy behind.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Grant focused his gaze on the receding door, his smile only widening as he spotted Skye standing in the corridor, beginning to bounce up and down on the balls of her feet. No sooner had he crossed the threshold of the doorway than she was propelling herself into his arms, extracting a grunt from him when her body hit him full force.

"I was so worried about you," she mumbled into the folds of his jacket, her face completely buried from view.

"I'm okay," he assured her, hugging her as tightly as the padded confines of his jacket would allow. The feel of her in his arms was something he was still not used to, he thought perhaps he would always feel that way. But being around Skye brought him a sense of joy and contentment that he hadn't known he was missing until the feisty hacker had been bundled out of her van and into his life.

Drawing back he took a moment to look her over, trying to gauge just how well she was coping with the events of the last few days. Though he had been with S.H.I.E.L.D. for over half of his life now, Skye was new to this world, and already it was being ripped out from under her as Hydra crawled out of the shadows.

"How are you doing?" he asked, taking off his gloves hurriedly and caressing her cheek.

"Better now my awesome S.O. is back safe." She beamed up at him, taking him by surprise as she unzipped his jacket so that she could nestle against his chest and wrap her arms around his waist.

Ward's embraced her quickly and easily, and he dropped a kiss onto the crown of her head without even thinking about the action. He was aware of the door sliding closed behind him, shutting out the chill of the snowstorm that continued to rage outside. Ward began to shrug off his jacket before the heat radiating around the inside of the base caused him to break out into a sweat, and he draped the coat over his free arm as he guided Skye towards the end of the corridor.

"I need to speak to Coulson," Ward declared, his hand hovering at the base of Skye's back as he peered down at her. "Things didn't go exactly as he expected with Garrett."

Skye frowned immediately, features darkening at the mention of the agent who had successfully played them all, and almost cost her her life.

"He's locked up, though, right?" she pressed, unaware that she was gnawing on her bottom lip as she regarded Grant, her unease displayed plainly.

"He is," Ward reassured her with a nod, grasping both of her hands in his own, "you don't have to worry about him any more, Skye."

She nodded, although clearly unconvinced on the subject, yet her lips lifted immediately into a smile as Ward craned his head as if to kiss her. Skye closed the remaining distance and hummed in pleasure when their lips finally met, and she stood on tip toe whilst he arched over her.

"I won't let anyone hurt you again," he vowed, nuzzling the warm skin of her neck as he breathed in her scent. Somehow, he immediately felt at peace despite the turmoil of the previous hours.

"I know," she whispered, holding his gaze and stroking her thumb over his jaw before she lifted herself onto her toes again and kissed him one final time. "Go… call A.C. I'll make us a drink. I don't know about you but I sure could use one… or three."

Flashing a final smile, Skye pivoted on her heel and scurried down the corridor in a direction that Ward presumed led towards a kitchen or lounge area. Pausing momentarily, he blew out a breath and took a moment to lean against the wall, one hand massaging his brow. It still frightened him just how close they had all come to losing Skye, and seeing Garrett smiling and gloating over the act that had almost claimed her life had only compounded that fear.

Ward sank to the floor until his back was pressed against the wall, and he rifled in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve the cellphone that Coulson had left with him. The number was the only one stored in the phone's memory and so Grant accessed it quickly, and allowed the sound of ringing to soothe him. The call was connected within seconds but Grant used the time to centre himself, breathing in deeply in order to stay the shaking in his hands and legs.

"Grant, everything okay?" Coulson demanded, forgoing any kind of greeting. His tone was evidently brimming with concern, and Ward almost smiled at the familiar sound, despite the situation.

"Garrett's in custody," Ward relayed, glad to hear the sigh of relief from his boss and father figure. "But the transfer didn't exactly go as we hoped."

Immediately Coulson sounded concerned, "What do you mean? Did someone get hurt? Has the Fridge been compromised?"

"No, the Fridge is secure," Ward assured him, "but Hand, she gave me a gun. She wanted me to make a choice; kill John or take him in."

The line was silent for a moment. Coulson knew how much anger Ward felt towards his own S.O., and how his betrayal had stung. But the fact he had been instrumental in ordering Skye's shooting at the hand of Ian Quinnn was the final straw for Ward, and the main reason he had volunteered to escort John Garrett into custody.

Coulson knew that Ward was in love with their newest recruit, he'd known it almost from the moment the formidable Specialist and free-spirited hacker had met. Though their relationship broke several S.H.I.E.L.D. codes of conduct, they made each other happy, and Coulson knew that in each of their lives love had been something that had been in fleeting supply.

"What did you do, Ward?" Coulson asked cautiously, unsure just how he'd censure the young agent even if he had pulled the trigger. "When you say Garrett's in custody, is that with or without his pulse?"

"I did the right thing," Ward said simply, "like I was raised to do."

"Okay. Well, good," Coulson acknowledged, all too aware of how hard it must have been not to pull that trigger. "Is Skye okay? How's she doing?"

Ward paused, contemplating the question and the most truthful answer he could possibly offer. Skye was strong and one of the bravest, most determined people that Ward had ever met, but he knew that she often wore a mask, as he had once become accustomed to do before Coulson had found him. Skye had yet to shake the mindset that exhibiting her emotions to the rest of the world was a weakness, and she would somehow be perceived as 'less' by the people around her if she did. It had taken Coulson many years of patience and some rather expensive therapy sessions to break Grant of the same, such were the scars inflicted by his childhood. Grant knew that whilst his own default emotion had been anger, Skye often used her sharp humour to deflect probing gazes or enquiries about her well-being. Since her encounter with Ian Quinn, Ward noted that that tendency had only gotten worse.

Finally, he answered, "Skye's trying her best not to let me in right now."

A small smile was evident in Coulson's voice as he answered, "I used to know a kid like that."

"Cute," Ward replied, rolling his eyes and puffing out a breath. "How do I stop her shutting me out?"

Coulson sighed, as if contemplating the question. It had taken months, perhaps even a year before Ward had begun to trust him, and today they had forged something that was akin to a father/son relationship. As well as being his right-hand man, Ward was the son Coulson had never had. But the road to getting there had been arduous. He assumed Ward was in for a similarly long-haul with Skye.

"Let her know she's safe… that she's loved." Coulson chuckled at the uncomfortable sound that radiated from Grant's throat, "Ward, you and I have had this discussion. I know about you and Skye being uh… together. I'm also pretty sure you two love each other, so I'm willing to look the other way here… but you've got to work at it if it's what you really want, and that goes for both of you."

"It is, Sir. It is what I want. I mean… Skye's what I want," the discomfort levels within Ward's tone of voice grew exponentially by the second, and he imagined he could see the grin he knew would invariably be plastered on Coulson's face in that moment.

"May and I will be back at base by morning, take the evening and relax a little. God knows the last few days have been stressful enough, just take some time off, Agent Ward."

"Not sure I know how to do that, Sir," the idea of 'relaxing' was still somewhat foreign to Grant Ward - in between striving to be the ultimate S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, he still - some 16 years later - felt compelled to prove to Coulson that he was worthy of the second chance he'd been given.

"I'm not suggesting Reiki or meditation, Grant, just… unwind a little, spend time together. Just don't do anything that will make Koenig blush."

Ward actually chuckled as he asked with feigned innocence, "Do Life Model Decoys blush?"

"I feel confident that you and Skye can find out," Coulson replied dryly. There was a shout from the other end of the line and Ward heard Coulson release a sigh that must have rattled his bones.

"I have to go, Grant. We can pick this up again tomorrow, if necessary," he offered, his tone sounding somewhat strained as he covered the receiver and added in a muffled shout, "Fitz… no… you can't… this room is a rental… oh gees…"

An amused smile playing across his lips, Ward replied, "You sound busy. Go, take care of the kids. I'll call if we need anything."

"Goodnight, Ward," Coulson said, somewhat more hurriedly than usual, although he waited for Grant to return the sentiment before he disconnected the call.

Replacing the cell phone into his pocket after ensuring that the screen was locked, Ward slumped back against the wall once again. A hundred niggling aches and pains were beginning to catch up with him after several solid days of fighting, and the temptation was there to down a couple of heavy duty pain killers and crawl into the nearest bed, but Ward was acutely aware of the fact that Skye needed him. If there was one lesson that had been instilled in Grant over the last decade and a half, it was that giving up on someone who needed him was never an option. He had learned it from the best, after all.

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** **Washington, D.C., 1999****

The apartment was tiny and bare; a space that someone seeking to be overtly polite might refer to as modest and sparse. Grant, however, was nothing more or less than a sullen teenage boy with a chip on his shoulder, and so he allowed his eyes to rove the open plan living area with obvious disgust. He had been used to the finer things in life, materialistically speaking, and so he might have found it difficult to veil his outrage even if he had been trying to.

"Did you just move in or something?" he demanded, dumping the black garbage bag containing his worldly possessions in the doorway and striding into the apartment.

Coulson paused, eyes sweeping his own cream walls, devoid of any artwork or pictures, before landing on the tower of unpacked cardboard boxes that dominated one corner of the lounge, and then falling upon the reams of paper and files spread out over the coffee table. The amount of abandoned mugs and plates of half eaten food that dotted the room was frankly embarrassing, as was the fact that the couch was half buried beneath a pile of dirty laundry that he hadn't had time to stuff into the washer yet.

"I… actually… I've lived here a while," Coulson stuttered, cheeks flushing somewhat as he closed the door behind them and slid across both the chain and the deadbolt. Grant arched an eyebrow as he watched the man pause by an alarm system that looked so intricate and expensive, he assumed it had cost more than the apartment itself. He was struck by the thought that no burglar in their right mind would be compelled to rob the hovel, and the subsequent curl of his lip must have communicated as much. When Coulson eventually turned to regard the boy, who was wearing his disbelief openly, his own expression grew chagrined.

"I've always lived alone. I guess I have trouble keeping on top of things," Coulson said, tone apologetic, "never really had a reason to before but… we can clean up. Make it homely. You can even have your own room."

"Whatever," Grant declared, striding further into the lounge without any real purpose behind his movements.

Coulson smiled patiently, moving over to the nearest kitchen drawer and rummaging through it for a few seconds. With a triumphant cry, he produced a key which he proceeded to place down onto the counter in front of his young charge.

"This is your home now, Grant," he explained, as if it really were that simple. "But let's just get one thing straight. You can be a pain in the ass, you can be rude, disrespectful, or all of those things at once… but I'm not going to change my mind. If you leave, it'll be your choice."

His expression brightened, and he turned and produced a wad of clearly well used takeout menus. "So, what'll it be? Pizza? Chinese?"

Shooting his new mentor a decidedly withering glare, Ward picked up his trash bags and shuffled towards the hallway where he assumed the bedrooms would be. Moments later Coulson heard a door slam, signifying that their little heart to heart had been brought to an abrupt conclusion.

Leafing through the nearest menu, Coulson sighed resolutely, "Pizza it is."

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** _ _ **Providence, 2014**__**

Ward managed to navigate the corridors of Providence with minimal difficulty, mostly thanks to the fact that he encountered Koenig within a few steps. After enduring his rather animated chatter about lanyards and the importance of wearing them at all times, Ward was able to extract Skye's location and directions to get there from the LMD.

He found her seated in a communal lounge, half sprawled on a couch that had seen better days with a tumbler of whiskey clutched in one hand. The bottle rested on the nearby table, alongside a second tumbler that was evidently intended for Ward's use but had yet to be filled.

Skye appeared to sense Ward before she saw him, a warm smile curving her lips upwards, although her eyes remained lightly closed.

"Everything okay with the rest of the team?" Skye queried, swallowing down a generous gulp of whiskey before placing her tumbler on the table. She opened her eyes and straightened up in her seat, twisting her body around so that she could meet Grant's gaze as he strode into the room.

"They'll be back tomorrow," Grant replied, smiling as he seated himself at Skye's side and she immediately sought the warmth of his body, her arms encircling him.

"I was worried about you," she admitted almost shyly, "I know you're like some… freakin' super spy, but… I was scared you wouldn't come back."

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, Ward drew her closer, "I always keep my promises, Skye. I told you I'd come back to you."

Skye leaned back in his arms, reaching up and placing her palm to his cheek. She scanned his face earnestly, finding only deep affection contained within his brown eyes.

"You're a good man, Grant," she stated, caressing his jaw and allowing her fingers to trail down his neck and into the fine hairs on the nape of his neck.

"No, I'm not… I've done terrible things, Skye" he argued, shaking his head sadly and gazing at her as if he couldn't quite believe anybody like her could or should perhaps ever love him, "things I can never tell you about."

The deeds of his youth still haunted him, and though Coulson had provided stability and kindness, and S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him the purpose he needed, he was still acutely aware that he was the perfect weapon; a killer. Someone who made the tough calls that others could never have lived with.

"Yes, you are," she murmured softly, moving to sit astride his knee and sliding her arms around his neck. She grazed her lips across his cheek and down his jaw, smiling against his skin as he swallowed hard, and his hands gripped her hips to keep her in place. "And there's nowhere else I'd rather be than here, with you."

Ward stroked his fingers down through the ends of her hair, his eyes boring into hers as she moved as if to kiss him. Skye's mouth lingered over his teasingly.

"The rest of the team will be back in the morning," Grant stated, his expression darkening with desire as he sat forward in his seat so that Skye fell further into his arms and he could slide a hand up around the back of her head.

Skye grinned, her eyes fluttering closed and her mouth falling open as he began to drag languid kisses down her neck.

"Then I guess we've got the place to ourselves," she breathed, her sentence ending on a whimper as his tongue lapped at her warm skin.

"Except for Koenig," Ward reminded her, although his actions indicated that he actually cared very little about that fact. One hand trailed upwards to cup her breast as he continued his path of kisses. He groaned against her skin as his fingers massaged the full, heavy globe through the fabric of her shirt and he felt her nipple pebble at his touch.

"I might have forgotten to wear a bra," she whispered teasingly, giggling as he winced at the admission. "But maybe we should move this to a bedroom, before Coulson's cyber buddy walks in on us and his little robot head pops right off? They do have bedrooms here, right?"

"Let's find out," Ward suggested, pausing only momentarily to press a kiss to Skye's lips before seizing her in both arms and climbing to his feet. Skye giggled and shrieked, feigning annoyance with her pout, despite the fact that her arms wound around Grant's neck, securing her in his hold.

"I don't have to wear my lanyard, do I?" Skye queried, cocking her head. Her tone was half playful, half serious, and Ward chuckled at the idea that Koenig might in fact be a lot more insistent about the continual wearing of lanyards at Providence than any of them had given him credit for.

"I'm sure the guy has an off switch somewhere," Ward teased, stifling Skye's snort of laughter when his lips crashed against hers. Instead, she moaned into his mouth, and he continued his quest through the corridors to find a room that they could claim as their own for the night.

"You know, I think… I think maybe I…" Skye stammered, cheeks turning crimson as she peered up into Ward's eyes through a fan of dark lashes that seemed impossibly long.

"Skye, whilst we're young," teased Grant, enjoying it thoroughly when Skye retaliated by nipping at his neck.

"I think…" Skye continued, smile fading, expression growing awed and voice morphing into a breathy whisper, "I think I'm falling in love with you, Grant Ward."

Ward, for his part, only beamed. Perhaps it was best to not yet let her know that he already did love her; totally, completely, with everything he had to give. One day, he hoped, she would be ready to hear it.

Placing her gently on her feet, Ward rummaged in his pocket for his ID card, trying to ignore the fact his jeans had become more than a little uncomfortable.

"Hurry up, Grant," Skye directed, grinning up at him provocatively as she began to tease open the buttons of her shirt.

The door of the mystery room swung open, and the couple's faces fell as they were faced with what looked suspiciously like a science lab and not a bedroom.

"I'm not wholly against the idea," Ward dead-panned, causing Skye to snort in amusement.

"FitzSimmons would have a shit fit!" she speculated, earning herself a smirk from Ward as he shook his head at her use of colourful language.

Chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip, Skye peered down the hallway and pointed towards a series of doors that appeared to be removed from the rest of the communal spaces.

"How about down there?" she said, laughing against Grant's lips as she suddenly found herself spun around and pressed against the offending laboratory door.

"How about right here?" he retorted, gasping as he pressed his crotch against her core and felt her squirm in response.

"Behave," she scolded him, planting both hands in the centre of his chest and pushing him firmly away.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Ward asked, and his smile was so wolfish and predatory that Skye felt her heartbeat accelerate right along with her desire to feel the weight of his body on top of her own.

Giggling, Skye danced out of his reach before turning on the balls of her feet and sprinting down the corridor in the direction of the rooms she hoped, almost prayed, were sleeping quarters.

"Nah, where would be the fun in that?" she called out, her shriek echoing along the hallway as Grant grinned and then, in a split second of decision, sped after her.

Coming to a stop in front of another closed door, Skye placed her hands on either side of the door frame.

"Okay, this is a winner, I can feel it…" she said confidently, smiling as his arms slid around her waist and she felt him pressed up against her.

"And I can feel __that,__ " she taunted, rolling her hips so the curve of her rear pressed against him wantonly.

Ward grazed his teeth across her exposed shoulder, somehow managing to slide the key card down the lock on the door whilst he also wrangled the grinding, gyrating woman in his arms.

Pushing the door open, the pair breathed a unanimous sigh of relief when a sparse yet roomy bed came into view, covered in dark grey sheets that really gave off more of a prison vibe than the romantic aura they craved.

"Wow, they need to seriously reconsider the décor of this place, because it's…" Skye began, turning around as she heard Ward's booted foot connect with the door, which slammed shut accordingly. Within seconds his lips were on hers and she found herself swept up into his arms. Her back was resting against the too-firm mattress before she'd even had time to process where she was.

"Hey there, T1000… don't want you blowing a fuse too soon," she chided, giggling at his eagerness despite the fact she felt herself growing just as heady with desire.

Ignoring her playfulness, Ward pressed a tender kiss against her lips, his fingertips cresting the line of her cheekbone. He gazed down at her with such a sense of awe and adoration that any further quips died on Skye's tongue.

"Six months," she mused aloud, her tone contemplative suddenly, "you know, I think that's the longest a guy's ever stuck around."

Ward frowned, as if truly bemused by the thought that any man could ever contemplate leaving Skye. There hadn't been a day since they'd clumsily and hesitantly ended up in each other's arms that he didn't thank whatever powers there might be that she was his, and he couldn't imagine not waking up with her each morning.

"Then they were idiots," he reasoned, recalling Coulson's earlier advice about Skye's somewhat skittish behaviour when it came to allowing people to care about her. Ward had started to realise it was because she craved love and affection above anything else, yet it had always been the one thing she had been cruelly and constantly denied from infancy.

"But I'm not going anywhere… you have my word, Skye," he promised her, "no matter what."

The expression she awarded him was analytical to say the least; although she had learned very quickly that she could trust him with her life, trusting him with her heart was another matter entirely. Of course, there was also the fact that she knew nobody had ever wanted it before, or had indeed wanted __her__ on a level that went beyond merely sex or shared goals.

"Okay," she said, as if suddenly coming to a decision, and a beautific smile graced her features that made Grant's heart leap in a way he once would have considered completely embarrassing.

Looping her arms around his neck, Skye sank back into the pillows as they lost themselves to another kiss. For the next few hours, Hydra, Garrett, and the crumbling world around them ceased to exist.


	2. Chapter 2

**__**My Boy Builds Coffins**__**

 ** _ _ **Part Two**__**

 ** _ _ **Dublin, November 2013**__**

To say it had been a hell of a mission was an understatement at best, and a gross injustice at worst. Ward had born the brunt of the failings, coming in contact with the Berserker staff not once but twice, and being forced to endure memories of his past torments that seemed to have almost broken him.

Lingering in the doorway of the bar, watching the misty eyed and stony faced Specialist nursing a glass of vodka that he appeared to have no inclination to drink, Skye wanted nothing more than to offer him comfort. However, from experience she knew that empty platitudes were just that, yet she couldn't hope to provide him with anything more given that she had no idea what ghosts haunted Grant.

She took a stumbling step forward when a passing waitress jarred her with a tray, but Grant remained oblivious to her presence, his eyes boring holes into the bar. Skye could tell from where she stood that his muscles were coiled and tensed, locked in place as though he was ready to march into battle at any given second. There was no physical war to be fought any longer, just the necessity for Grant to wrestle with his own mental demons. It was a fight that Skye wasn't certain could be won, and definitely one that she didn't envy him.

Sucking in a deep breath, Skye crossed the distance between them on trembling legs and pulled up a stool at Grant's side. He did glance up then although only fleetingly, and with such raw pain instantly obvious in his features that Skye felt tears springing to her own eyes.

"So... Hell of a day, huh?" she began, almost wincing at how utterly lame her opening line had sounded.

"I guess so," Ward agreed, lifting the glass to his lips and downing the liquid in one swig that Skye wasn't entirely sure hadn't been prompted by her presence. The pair sat in silence for a moment, neither so much as acknowledging the other with a sideways glance or utterance. When the quiet became too much to bear, Skye huffed out a sigh.

"Look, Ward, I have no idea what's going on with you, and I can't even pretend to know what's in your head right now, but if you want to talk, I'm a pretty good listener," she offered, reaching out with a weak smile and curling her fingers around his forearm.

The muscles in his neck flexed as he swallowed, debating whether or not to laden her with his troubles. It had taken him years as a kid to trust Coulson enough to offload onto his guardian, and if he were being honest he cared far too much about Skye to risk scaring her away with his demons. He still secretly harboured the fantasy that one day they may be more than colleagues, that the strange little friendship that had blossomed between them could flourish into something else. Because if he were being honest with himself, he'd been in love with the wayward hacker from the moment she'd poked him in the chest and challenged every rule, regulation, and code that he'd spent the last sixteen years living by.

"You don't want to hear about my problems, Skye," he shook his head, beckoning the bartender and this time requesting the bottle with an additional glass.

Shrugging, as if to communicate that she felt that decision should rest with her, Skye frowned as she poured them both a drink. "Try me. I don't spook easily, robot. So... what was it you saw?"

Ward hesitated, gulping down another slug of alcohol and trying not to wince at the burn. He rolled his tumbler around in his hand for a moment before resting it back on the bar, eyes never once flicking to Skye's face. She wondered if he thought he might lose his nerve if he were to look at her. Patiently, she waited for Grant to either glance in her direction or begin spilling his darkest secrets, but she found herself growing weary when neither happened after a solid five minutes of silence.

"Grant, I guess this must be tough for you but… even the bartender keeps looking over at us now," Skye joked, nudging Ward with her elbow in a weak attempt to encourage a smile from him.

Finally, Grant raised his gaze, sweeping Skye's face with his eyes with such intensity that she felt herself becoming breathless, just peering back into two deep pools of warm chocolate brown.

"Coulson saved me. He literally pulled me out of Hell, and I don't think I'll ever be able to repay him for that even if I live a hundred years," Grant said quietly, his eyes still surprisingly locked with Skye's. She nodded her head, the ghost of a sad smile playing across her lips as she contemplated not for the first time what her own life may have been like had she been fortunate enough to encounter a man with Phil Coulson's integrity.

"So… what does Hell look like for Grant Ward?" Skye enquired, tipping her head as she peered across the bar, spreading her hands flat to keep them from visibly shaking.

Deciding that sharing was indeed caring, Skye hoped to prompt him out of his reverie by sharing details of her own troubled past.

"I mean, you know mine already, right? Orphanage, foster homes, and a whole lot of families who I guess just didn't want me," she tried to sound nonchalant as she described her childhood, but as Grant's hand slid over the back of hers, she realised she'd been sitting contemplating her own maudlin thoughts.

"My brother," he explained on a sigh, "I saw my brother."

Shuffling slightly closer, Skye leaned her elbow on the bar and propped her head in her hand. She could feel her cheeks colour slightly as Ward downed the final dregs of vodka from his glass, and his eyes lingered over her face, perhaps settling a little too long on her lips.

"Okay, so... you and he don't get along?" she probed, not wholly understanding his explanation. Ward glanced around the bar, his expression tinged by fear as he finally made himself meet her gaze once again.

"My older brother was a bully, he'd... he'd hurt me, he'd hurt Thomas... and... sometimes he'd make me join in. And I would, because I was weak, and..." Skye was appalled, and she tugged on his jacket sleeve to halt his self-deprecating tangent.

"You were a kid, you were afraid..." Shaking her head, as if not able to properly compute what he was telling her, she demanded, "What about your parents?"

A wry smile suddenly twitched at Grant's lips, yet there was no mirth behind his eyes as he answered, "They were worse."

"Jesus, Ward. I'm... I'm sorry," she said, reaching out and nudging his hand over so she could press her palm to his. She clasped his hand, clearing her throat before she suggested, "Look, it's getting pretty crowded in here. We could go up to my room and... "

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me, Skye," he returned sadly, shaking his head as he stared down at their joined hands with something akin to disappointment, "and if we slept together, it..."

He averted his gaze to the bar as he added in barely above a whisper, "It could never be just one night with you, Skye. You mean more to me than pity sex."

"Whoah, whoah, whoah, buddy. I said 'talk'..." Skye held up her free hand defensively, her brain suddenly catching up with her mouth as she processed his words. "Wait. I do? You've... you've thought about 'us'? Don't you think I'm like..."

She searched the air, eyes narrowed as she recalled the exact words he'd used to describe her only months before, " 'Incessantly and relentlessly annoying'?"

"Only on your good days," Ward quipped dryly, actually emitting a chuckle as Skye punched him in the ribs.

"Is that what it's going to take to make you smile?" Skye demanded, shaking her head and grinning, "letting you abuse my good nature and…"

She fell abruptly silent, clapping one hand over her mouth as she realised what she had said, and the double meaning that Ward could find behind her words.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," Skye said in a rush, her cheeks flushing and her eyes growing impossibly wide as she attempted to back track. Ward, for his part, simply reached out and cupped Skye's cheek with one, large hand, pleased when she seemed to nestle ever so slightly into his touch.

"I know what you meant, it's fine," he murmured, pausing to sip more reservedly at his drink before he added, "I'm aware every single day just how lucky I am that Coulson found me. I was headed down a bad road and, well, if he hadn't come along, I don't know who I might have become… what I might have become."

"You could never be anything but a hero, Grant," Skye replied, her eyes brimming with moisture that she attempted to frantically blink away. The idea of Ward - strong, brave, loyal to a fault and so pure in his convictions - being abused by the people that were supposed to have loved him most in the world brought a lump to her throat that she found she couldn't fully swallow down. She often had thought that she had deserved the misfortunes of her own childhood - after all, she was stubborn in all the worst possible ways, immature, spiteful and contrary. If anyone deserved to suffer, if anyone was just downright unlovable, it was her. Not Ward. Never Grant Ward, the man who shielded innocent people from bullets and made three different types of breakfast pancake at the weekend because the team all had their various favourites.

"You can't know what a person is capable of under the wrong circumstances, Skye," Ward replied, shaking his head gently, with inherently sadness in his eyes.

"But I know you," she countered, holding his gaze and smiling until he too consented to, "and consider it an open ended offer... if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

Nodding, Ward contemplated pouring another drink - anything to dull the pounding in his head that the Berserker staff had prompted, along with the slew of memories he had worked hard to forget.

"So..." Skye began, unsuccessfully biting back a smile as she circled her fingertip across the sticky surface of the bar, "maybe at some point we should talk about you and me? I don't mean now but..."

She winced, as if physically pained, "Okay, here you go, the last of my self-respect, Ward, so enjoy... I like you, okay? I like you. In a non-friend, 'it probably breaks the rules' kind of way. And I think you like me too, so..."

Ward remained silent, head hung down as he stared at the bar's glossy surface, and deliberated how to answer her question. Denying his feelings for her could push her away, but then acting on them came with its own set of problems, not least of all the fact that he felt in no way deserving of her. Coming to a resolution of sorts, Ward stood up from the stool and began to tug the tie away from the collar of his shirt.

"You wanna get out of here?"

"Uh... Sure. Okay," she said, about to jump down from the stool when she felt his hand land on her shoulder.

His breath ghosted the shell of her ear, and she could detect the hesitancy in his voice as he said earnestly, "I do like you."

"I feel like there's a big fat ol' 'but' coming here," Skye began, wincing as she quickly followed up with a mumble of, "please God someone stop me talking."

Ward grinned, his eyes beginning to sparkle in the usual characteristic manner as he pressed the palm of his hand into the base of Skye's back and began to guide her towards the lobby.

"No 'but'," he assuaged her, popping open the top few buttons of his shirt and grimacing as he hooked a thumb underneath his tight, starched collar. "I think we should have some fun. Forget S.H.I.E.L.D. and the past and responsibility just for one night. Deal with the consequences in the morning."

Looking up at him somewhat suspiciously, Skye nevertheless slid her arm through his, hugging it perhaps a little tighter than was necessary.

"Where exactly are you taking me?"

"Wherever you want to go," Ward offered, pushing the door open with one hand to allow Skye to step outside into the cool, Dublin air.

"So... is this like a date?" she fished, glancing up at him from behind a thick fan of lashes, finding herself struck once again by just how handsome he was.

"Do you want it to be?" he asked, smiling as she nestled into his side, and he chanced slipping an arm around her waist to draw her closer as they fell into step.

"Do you always answer a question with a question? You know, I can ask A.C. to load you up with some of that truth serum stuff again, it'd only take a phone call..." she teased, her eyes practically dancing as she gazed at the revellers and bright lights around them. Shaking his head and laughing at her antics, Ward steered her out of the way of a passing drunk.

"I told you, there's no such thing as truth serum."

"Sure thing, Terminator," Skye drawled in response, puffing out a deep breath into the cold night air in order to marvel at the white cloud that formed as a consequence.

"It's chilly," Ward noted, gesturing back at the hotel momentarily as he added, "sure you don't want to stop by your room for a jacket?"

"I'm good," Skye answered, her eyes roving the streets at an immeasurable rate as she drank in the foreign sights before her - corners of the world she had never dared to dream she would experience.

"Hey, you know what I do want?" Skye enquired, beginning to swing her arms with a kind of childlike wonderment about her as she walked. "I want a green hat, with a four leaf clover on it. And I want to drink Guinness. I don't even know what that is, but I want some."

Not about to argue with her over either demand, Ward dutifully bobbed his head. "Like I said, whatever you want."

He had to admit that the idea of Skye wearing a tasteless, garish, Leprechaun hat was far too comical even for him to pass up.

"Ooooh, I like this version of Grant Ward so much better than the mean, grumpy, robot version who drags my ass out of bed at crap-balls o'clock every morning. Can we keep him?" she joked, suddenly realising that they were holding hands with a gleeful little smile that made her heart leap in her chest.

Ward inhaled slowly, shaking his head as he was prone to do when she began to mercilessly tease him.

"I only train you so hard because I don't want anything to happen to you."

Skye halted her steps, her eyes widening as she digested his words, and for once the wind had been well and truly knocked out of her sails.

" _Oh_ ," she stammered at his admission, swinging their joined hands idly as she stared down at their entwined fingers. Lifting her gaze, she stepped closer, leaning up on the tips of her toes as she inclined her head. Before Grant had a chance to react, she'd pressed her lips against his. The kiss was slow and somewhat awkward at first, but soon he was kissing her back, his hands settling on her hips as he pulled her against him. She moaned airily at the increasing urgency with which he attacked her mouth.

Pulling away, Skye licked her top lip, still tingling from their kisses, and as she ran her palms down the lapels of his jacket, she intercepted his gaze. Not wishing to allow their evening to fall any further into an uncategorised state, Skye slid her hands up around the back of his neck, and brushed a feather light kiss against his lips.

"Oh, and, Ward? _This is a date_."

"Duly noted," Ward replied, unable to hide his joy and amazement at the fact. Both radiated from his smile and the light suddenly present in his eyes, which narrowed a fraction as he gazed at Skye.

"Well, good," she countered, fighting hard to hide her grin, and moving closer to Ward's side in order to rest her head on his shoulder. In response, his arm snaked around her waist, drawing her into his warmth and solid presence.

"Now, are you going to show me the sights or what, Agent Ward?"

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** _ _ **Providence, April 2014**__**

Skye pressed her cheek further into the impossibly soft pillow, smiling even as she awoke at the feel of Ward's warm, firm body curled around her. Opening her eyes, she turned in his arms, unsurprised to see him already awake and peering at her with the kind of affection that made her stomach flutter.

"Hey robot," she beamed, reaching around to stroke the back of his neck as he pressed kisses against her shoulder.

"We slept in pretty late this morning, huh?" she teased, giggling as his hand swept up her thigh and proceeded with clear intent to her ribcage. "I'm kind of surprised you're still here. Figured you'd have hit the gym at the ass-crack of dawn. This is getting to be a habit, Agent Ward."

Ward smirked, his voice deepening naturally with lust as he explained, "The view was too good to miss from where I was lying."

Skye actually flushed, a part of her still not used to these new developments between them, where Grant allowed her to see the most secret and unguarded parts of himself that he had kept locked away from everyone else but Coulson.

"Is that a fact?" she simply replied, laughing as Ward suddenly straddled her hips without warning, his hands moving upwards to cup her face. He held her perfectly still as he kissed her, delighted at how her whole body seemed to respond to his touch, growing warmer and more tense beneath him.

"We should get showered and dressed, as much as I hate to say it," Grant breathed as he drew his lips away from Skye's, one hand remaining on her cheek and the other carefully brushing tendrils of hair away from her face.

"The others will be back soon, I guess," agreed Skye, sounding as though she was doing her level best not to pout about that fact. The world needed saving and that required her to put her grown up head on, as much as she was loathed to admit it.

Ward nodded, smiling down at her as she caressed his face and appeared to scrutinise every inch of his handsome features. He bent his head and kissed her again, allowing his body to rest over hers, skin on skin, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him against her, loathed to lose their closeness.

Drawing apart, Skye sighed in contentment as he pressed his forehead against hers and their lips met in a series of slow, languid kisses. Seeing her expression falter, Ward frowned, leaning up on one elbow to enable him to caress her cheek.

"What's the matter?"

He felt her fingertips brush across his shoulders, and she held him against her, directing his head to rest against her chest. He moved willingly, pressing a kiss between her breasts and closing his eyes as she wove her fingers through his hair.

"Coulson knows about us, right?" she checked, "is he pissed? I mean, I know it's against the rules…but… I don't want this to end, Grant."

"I don't care about the rules, Skye. I just want you. And, I promise, Coulson doesn't care as long as it doesn't effect missions. We do our jobs and he'll turn a blind eye." Almost cautiously, Ward added, "He knows I love you."

Skye smiled the ghost of a smile. It must have been nice, she thought, to have had someone fighting your corner for so long; someone who genuinely cared about you to the point that they would risk everything they had once believed in only to ensure your happiness. She had never known anything of the like in her life, before Grant. Whilst she trusted him to keep her safe, trusting him to do the right thing by her emotionally was another matter entirely - one that her damaged past made all the more difficult to overcome, no matter how much kindness she was shown by those at S.H.I.E.L.D. Ward knew this and so he didn't push too hard, allowing her her doubts and fears but always doing his level best to soothe them away when he could.

"You shower first, I'll fix some coffee," Grant offered, and with one brilliant smile from him, Skye felt some of her anxieties melt away. She found herself nodding and gathering up fresh clothes before she really knew what she was doing, and twenty minutes later she was sitting in the communal lounge sipping at a cup of coffee loaded with sugar as Koenig's inane chatter washed over her.

Coulson and the others were expected to arrive imminently, and so Koenig was busily - and somewhat fussily - preparing for his boss' arrival with his usual enthusiasm. He chatted furiously to Ward, with no requirement to pause for breath, and the Specialist replied politely but curtly, shooting Skye a smile every now and then in an attempt to reassure her.

Finally releasing Grant from his tirade, Koenig hurried to the main bunker entrance, preparing to welcome back the rest of the team, and leaving Grant and Skye to finish their coffee in peace. Skye picked absently at a pastry, sitting at Ward's side and doing her best to maintain some degree of propriety in readiness for Coulson's return. The feeling of belonging she now felt being a part of the team was something she'd never experienced before, and she was loathed to let anything ruin the sense of family she'd found. But she knew instinctively that should she be forced to choose, it would be Ward every time.

"It'll be nice having everyone back again," she speculated, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Especially with… well, with everything going on right now."

Ward nodded his agreement, his mind wandering as he considered just what kind of mood Coulson would be returning in given the fact that the mission that had drawn him away from Providence had involved Audrey; an unfinished chapter of his past. He could only wait and see, although if Coulson required his support then it would be his, unfailingly - the way he had always been there for Grant.

Hurried footsteps in the corridor pulled Ward from his thoughts and he glanced up towards the doorway as Skye continued to sip her coffee and push her breakfast round her plate. On impulse, Grant climbed to his feet as Coulson strode into the room, relief painting his somewhat drawn features as his eyes swept his surrogate son, assuring himself of his well being.

"How did it go?" Ward blurted out, wincing visibly as he realised that all his resolutions to play it cool and wait for Coulson to open up of his own accord had been immediately laid to waste.

Coulson paused, a flicker of something crossing his face for just a moment before he was able to lock it down tight; instead, concern became prevalent in the set of his jaw and the way he swept his hand across his stubble.

"Sir, what is it?" Ward pressed, taking an immediate step forward and finding his own worry only escalating as Coulson peered back at him.

"Grant, I'm so sorry," Coulson said, his voice cracking as he continued, "the Fridge has been compromised… Garrett is free."

 ** **x-x-x****

Striding hurriedly down the hallways of the base, it didn't take Ward and Coulson long to find where Skye had bolted to upon hearing the news that the man who had wanted her dead was once again on the loose.

The two men stood outside the ladies' bathroom, and Coulson offered Ward a weak smile as he gestured that he should be the one to first attempt to comfort her.

Hand poised on the door, Ward sighed as he heard her gentle sobs emanating from the restroom. Just as he was about to knock to signal his presence, a firm hand caught hold of his wrist.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Agent Ward. That is very clearly the bathroom for female operatives, and you are quite evidently a male," at Ward's glare and snarl of annoyance, Koenig shrank back slightly. "May I suggest you relieve yourself in the male bathrooms? They're just down the hall and to your left."

Ward took a steadying breath and turned to his boss, who was trying his best to indicate to Koenig that he should not interfere. The Life Model Decoy was apparently not comprehending the too subtle hint.

"Get your God damn hand off me or I'll relieve you of your batteries!" Ward snapped, pushing the android's hand away with perhaps a little more force than was necessary.

Koenig appeared genuinely affronted by the move and he crossed his arms over his chest as he glared at Ward to demonstrate his displeasure.

"May I remind you, Agent Ward, that you are a guest here at Providence, and that abuse of staff, whether that be physical or verbal, will not be tolerated under any circumstances," Koenig warned, arching a brow almost smugly at the agent, and completely failing to detect how Ward's hands were balling into fists at his sides. Coulson, however, well versed in dealing with Grant's often quick temper, immediately stepped between the two, his hands held up to Ward in a surrendering gesture.

"Agent Koenig, can you maybe just this once cut us a little slack?" Coulson cajoled, adding a smile to his plea as he decided that he could perhaps catch more flies with honey than Ward's standard liberal sprinkling of vinegar.

"This is highly irregular, and against at least several regulations that I can recall," Koenig retorted, shaking his head as he continued to give Ward the side-eye. Groaning in frustration, Grant levelled a glare at the LMD that Coulson was frankly shocked didn't short circuit him immediately.

"What are you going to do? Take my lanyard away?" Grant demanded, deciding that he had had enough of Koenig for one day, and simply pushing his way into the womens' bathroom, where he found Skye seated on the floor next to the sinks, her knees pulled up into her chest and her face hidden in her palms.

Lowering himself to the ground beside her, he wasted no time in placing his arm around her shoulders and tugging her closer towards his chest. She went willingly, one hand clasping at the fabric of his shirt as she leaned her head on his shoulder and tried to swallow down the further sobs she felt building in her gut.

"Skye… no," he murmured softly, his cheek pressed to her head as he enclosed her in an embrace. "He's not going to hurt you. I won't let him."

Shaking her head miserably, Skye reached up and caressed his cheek, her fingertips trailing along his jaw. She nestled as close as she could get, breathing him in, relishing the heat that radiated from his skin as he held her.

"He's not gonna rest until I'm dead, Grant. And he'll kill you and anyone else who stands in his way. I can't… I…"

"Hey," he soothed, the back of his knuckles brushing against her tear stained cheek. He drew closer and kissed her forehead, stroking her hair from her face. "I will never let anything happen to you, Skye. Garrett's no match for me, and he knows it. Especially not… not where you're concerned. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. And it's not just me, Skye. Coulson, May, FitzSimmons… they're your family now, and they'd never let anyone hurt you again."

"I don't want them in danger because of me." She shook her head, taking a steadying breath, and she swallowed down the nerves she felt fluttering in her chest. "Especially not you. I… I lied to you before, Ward."

He frowned, watching her closely as she averted her gaze to the ground, breathing out a deep breath as she confessed, "When I said I thought that I was falling in love with you, it was a lie. Because I already do. I love you so much, Grant, and I'm so scared you're gonna get hurt."

Her hand shook as she closed her eyes against a fresh surge of tears, and she let her head drop against his shoulder. She buried her face into his neck as she felt him envelope her in his arms, desperate to close any remaining distance between them.

"That's not going to happen," Ward whispered, repeating in a louder voice, "that's not going to happen, Skye. Remember?"

At Skye's confused look, Grant allowed a smirk to spread across his lips as he stated in a mock, deep falsetto of his own voice, "I'm Agent Grant Ward and I could shoot the legs off a flea from 500 yards."

Tears still tripping her cheeks, Skye snorted despite herself, holding tighter to Grant's shirt as she realised she could not halt the trembling in her hands.

"Dork," she accused, taking a few deep breaths, allowing the scent of his cologne to flood her senses and begin to ground her.

"Only for you," Grant assured her, brushing a kiss against her head and closing his eye momentarily. "And I won't let anyone take you away from me. Never again, okay?"

" _Okay_ ," Skye echoed, although her voice was small and her breathing still too shallow to be considered completely calm.

"I would never lie to you, Skye," Ward promised, his hand sweeping her cheek and moving lower to rest on the back of her neck, where he gently inclined her face towards his own. He peered at her for several seconds and, when she allowed her eyes to flicker closed, he kissed each of her eyelids.

"Now… please would you come out of the ladies' bathroom," Ward coaxed, hiding a smile, "before Koenig comes in to forcibly confiscate my lanyard?"

This time her smile was genuine, and she rolled her eyes as he stood and then held his hand out to her.

"Jeez, not the lanyard!" she mocked, clasping his hand in hers as he pulled her up from the floor.

Pausing to wipe the tell-tale signs of her tears from underneath her eyes, Skye took a breath to ground herself. Wordlessly, Ward wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. She was content for a moment to calm herself and take comfort in his embrace, before she had to face Coulson's sympathetic gaze.

"Okay?" he asked softly, smiling down at her as she nodded her head and slid her hand down his arm to clutch his hand.

"Yeah." She sniffed one final time, almost rolling her eyes at how utterly ridiculous she suddenly felt. Having never been one to burst into tears at the first sign of trouble before, her own response to Garrett's escape had taken her by surprise. But then she supposed the old Skye had never been shot at close range in the stomach before, either. So there was that.

Walking out of the bathrooms, she found Coulson waiting patiently for them outside. He exchanged a fleeting glance with Ward, and then offered Skye his most reassuring smile.

"How you doing? Are you okay? I… I figured I'd give you two a little privacy," he explained his position outside the door, suddenly gesturing with his thumb to the stony faced Koenig. "And also, he wouldn't let me go in."

"This is highly irregular, Coulson," Koenig stated, everything about his demeanour conveying his irritation and complete disapproval.

"We're a highly irregular bunch," Coulson countered, arching an eyebrow and offering Koenig a smile that he hoped would be considered charming, and at least partially relieve a degree of the tension building in the narrow corridor.

"It's my fault," Skye interjected, her cheeks flushing as she gazed at Koenig, her apology written across the distraught expression she wore, "I just…"

At the trembling of her bottom lip, Koenig's eyes widened infinitesimally and he held up both hands, forcing a smile upon his own lips.

"Say no more, I'm willing to let it slide this time," he offered magnanimously, "just… don't make a habit of it."

Hiding his exasperation behind what he hoped was a grateful smile, Coulson nodded at Keonig as the trio began to walk away, and he watched as Skye and Ward strolled ahead. Their hands were clasped together, as if each were afraid to let go of the other.

He couldn't blame Skye for her fear over Garrett's escape. She had almost paid the price for his insanity once before, and if John Garrett was one thing, it was persistent.

This time, they would be prepared, and they would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** _ _ **The BUS, February 2014**__**

He stood awkwardly outside the med. bay room, his hands dug deep into his pockets as he contemplated interrupting Ward's silent vigil, or simply observing from the door way.

Skye looked so pale and so fragile, lying in the centre of the bed with a variety of tubes and lines running from her body. The ventilator had been successfully removed a few hours after the antidote had been administered, but she was yet to regain consciousness, and Ward had not moved from her bedside since they had returned with the precious vile that had saved her life. Coulson's feelings about that particular development were still somewhat mixed, but he had decided to keep his concerns to himself for the moment, at least until Skye's complete recovery was assured. She certainly had a long road ahead of her, both physically and eventually mentally.

Taking a deep breath in order to prepare himself, Coulson made his decision and knocked lightly on the door. Ward barely flinched, having of course sensed the presence of the other man long before he had opted to announce it.

"Mind if I…?" Coulson inquired, already stepping over the threshold of the room. Ward finally turned around, and his red, swollen eyes affixed on Coulson's face with a complete lack of focus that belayed his exhaustion and also fear.

"Just don't let Simmons catch you," Ward whispered, glancing towards the viewing window of the pod as he spoke, "she's only just given up trying to throw me out. If she knows you're in here too, she may just ICE us both."

"I'll take it on risk," said Coulson as he pulled up a chair and seated himself at Ward's side. "How's she doing?"

Ward shook his head helplessly, unused to feeling so utterly useless. He was a Specialist, he was an expert in strategies and problem solving, but this time all he could do was watch and wait.

"I don't know. Simmons says she's holding on. She's breathing on her own, her vitals are better…" he shrugged sadly, "but we won't know until she wakes up whether or not there's… there's any long-term damage."

Coulson lowered his gaze to the ground as he thought over the events that had led the young woman almost to her death; events he felt directly responsible for.

And although he hadn't been entirely certain as to the status of Ward's relationship with Skye before, the young man's constant and unflinching watch over her was enough to convince him that it was something much more than a workplace fling.

Ward stroked his thumb over the back of her knuckle, closing his eyes and stilling as he felt Coulson's hand land in a paternal gesture on his shoulder.

"She'll be okay, Grant," he reassured him, feeling Ward's body tense at his side. "She's young and full of life. Stubborn and, well, she's a pain in the ass a lot of the time… she's a fighter."

He smiled briefly as he thought about their newest addition to the team. Skye had been a breath of fresh air on the BUS, and despite her buoyant enthusiasm for just about everything that S.H.I.E.L.D. frowned upon, (and her somewhat dismissive attitude to rules and authority of any kind), he couldn't imagine the team without her.

Ward closed his eyes, memories of their all too brief time together flooding his mind. Her smile, her laugh, the incessant goading and button pushing that he had pretended to find irritating; and the nights they had spent together in the past few monthss; her skin against his, waking to her kisses and shy smiles, her body arching underneath his own, and the sound of his name falling from her lips.

His jaw set, and he finally tore his gaze away from Skye and focused on his boss, his eyes blazing with unbridled rage.

"Sir, if May hasn't had any luck getting information from Quinn, I want to take over the interrogation."

"You know I can't let that happen, Ward," Coulson replied immediately, tone firm and unyielding, "as your superior, I…"

"And what about as my father?" Ward interjected, the pain reflected in his eyes almost more than Coulson could stand to witness. He had seen Grant hurting before, and it near destroyed him when he found there wasn't a damn thing he could do to rectify the situation that tormented him. He was the closest thing Ward would ever have to a parent, and it pained him when he felt he was letting him down - just as his actual parents had done for his entire life.

"I can't allow it, Grant," Coulson stated, his tone softening as he added, " _especially_ as your father."

Ward turned away quickly, reaching out with one hand in order to smooth Skye's hair back from her forehead. She felt cold to the touch and he was forced to choke down the lump that rose in his throat.

"You have come so far in the last few years," Coulson explained, leaning both elbows on his knees and drawing himself closer to Skye's bedside, "made me so proud. I don't want to see you lose yourself to hatred again. Not if I can help it."

The silence seemed unending, punctuated only by Skye's soft and shallow breathing, and the occasional beeping of the machinery that monitored her. Ward remained tense and peering down at his own hand entwined with Skye's limp fingers, his expression suddenly giving nothing away. It was a skill he had perfected as a boy, when he had learned that Christian fed off emotion, and the slightest hint of any weakness only spurred him on further.

"But… _I think I love her_ ," Ward whispered into the quiet.

Coulson digested his words for only a moment, watching the young man as his fingers curled around Skye's, and he stared at her face as if sheer will alone could make her wake up.

"I'm not asking for details, God, don't give me details, but…" Coulson winced slightly, "how long has this been going on, Grant?"

"Since Dublin," Ward admitted, "I know it's against S.H.I.E.L.D. regulations, I know as her S.O., I…"

Coulson shook his head, interrupting Grant's confession, "I don't care about that, Grant."

Ward looked up cautiously, afraid he'd misheard, but Coulson offered him a shrug and a pointed smile.

"Rules are made to be broken. Some of them. Sometimes. I mean, you should really follow them whenever you can, but I understand that there are moments when… things arise and… I mean… I mean, I guess what I'm trying to say is…" Floundering to recover from his somewhat epic tangent, Coulson looked down at the young hacker with a paternal kind of smile, wondering how she herself might accurately sum up the situation. "Shit happens."

"You're not going to split us up? Take one of us off the team?" Ward double-checked, wondering if he'd understood the older man correctly.

"Are you kidding?" Coulson scoffed, shaking his head and chuckling as though the idea itself was insanity. "I have the best team in S.H.I.E.L.D. right now. No way I'm letting any of you go… well, unless you're telling me you want to."

"No," Ward hurriedly interrupted, shaking his head for added emphasis, "I mean, I want to stay with this team, sir."

Smiling, and with a vague nod of his head, Coulson began to caution, "That's not to say I don't have conditions, Ward. This can't interfere with missions. I get the faintest whiff of one of you doing something stupid and self-sacrificial for the other, and I pull the plug on this so fast…"

He frowned, glancing back down at Skye and the tubes piercing her skin.

"Poor choice of words," he amended apologetically, forcing Ward to meet his gaze with his tone alone, "but it still stands. This doesn't effect the team, it doesn't effect missions, and it doesn't effect orders, or I can't turn a blind eye."

"Thank you," Ward said quietly, caressing her wrist with his thumb. "I understand if you want to ask May to take over as Skye's S.O… when she wakes up."

Coulson peered down at Skye - the young woman he was rapidly beginning to think of as a surrogate daughter - and he shook his head, mind apparently made up.

"No. Besides, she's going to need you, Grant. It's not going to be easy for her."

Ward's sudden frown drew his brows together; he thought he had seen movement out of the corner of his eye.

Dismissing it as his weary mind playing tricks on him, he stated firmly, "Whatever it takes. Whatever she needs. I won't let her down again."

His own guilt surfacing, Coulson grimaced.

"You didn't let her down, Ward… I did," he admitted gravely, "and what's with all this 'sir' business all of a sudden?"

A loud, shrill tone seized their attention rather abruptly, and the two men stared in a mixture of confusion and terror as they watched the numbers indicating Skye's heart rate beginning to climb.

"Skye?" Ward called out to her, stroking her face as he leaned over her whilst Coulson stuck his head out of the pod door, yelling for Jemma's attention.

And then a smile broke out through his panic stricken expression as Ward found himself gazing down in to a familiar pair of brown eyes. Gasping for breath, and making soft, raspy groans at the discomfort in her throat, Skye's vision swam against the hazy feeling in her head. Finding Grant's face, she stared up in silence until the terrified expression in her eyes gave way to gradual relief.

Coulson ran his hand over his jaw as his own heart hammered, and he watched Ward lift their joined hands to his chest. He kissed Skye's palm repeatedly, pressing it almost desperately against his cheek.

A single tear trickled down Skye's face, and in that moment Coulson's resolve broke.

Turning to afford them some privacy, he lingered for only a moment in the doorway. "We're transferring Quinn at 0900 hours… you've got 10 minutes when the cameras will be off. Just make sure the bastard's still alive when we hand him over."

To most it would have appeared as though Ward hadn't heard; too caught up in Skye and her sudden awakening to pay mind to anything else that was occurring around him. He continued to speak softly and reassuringly to her, wiping away the tears of fear and pain that trickled from the corners of her eyes. She was shaking visibly, caught somewhere between uncertainty as to what had happened to her and the fragments of memories that were crashing down upon her.

However, several hours later, after Skye had been checked over by Simmons, and had yielded to a more natural sleep, Ward disappeared from the pod. He was gone only twenty minutes, but when he returned, the knuckle he used to caress the apple of her cheek was bruised and split. Come the morning, Quinn's escorts would find that it had nothing on the state of the man's face.

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** _ _ **Unknown Hydra Facility, February 2014**__**

He walked down the spiral staircase into the dark depths of the underground room, strolling past a line-up of Hydra misfits and various other mercenaries that Garrett had at his disposal.

They each eyed the tall, dark haired man carefully, some out of fear of his reputation, others out of jealousy at his position at Garrett's right hand.

Clad in a leather jacket, face and knuckles littered with cuts and bruises, none of them dared challenge him as he roamed the hideout in search of his mentor.

Garrett was immediately on his feet the moment he spied his favourite soldier, his face almost giving away a trace of a smile as he walked up to meet him. Whilst he hadn't been Garrett's first choice of troubled, angry young delinquent, he had more than delivered in the fourteen years John had been his unlikely father-figure.

Until today, that was.

"Sir…" the younger man began, brown eyes flashing with a hint of pride as he prepared to inform John of their plan's successes.

Without warning, Garrett drew back his fist and punched him hard in the jaw. He clasped his head with one hand and hit him twice more with the other, but the trained assassin did little to even attempt to thwart the attack. Blood ran from his mouth, yet he didn't fight back, staggering on his feet as Garrett shoved him away.

"What in the Hell were you thinking, son?" he crooned dangerously, and almost immediately the minions that had settled in to watch the display made themselves scarce.

Spitting blood onto the floor, the man stared askance at his mentor, still half hunched over as he struggled to catch his breath.

"The mission, sir…" he explained, careful to keep his tone even, respectful still, "I was thinking about…"

"I know what you were thinking about, you little shit," Garrett roared, advancing several steps on the soldier, who flinched but did not retreat. "Anger… revenge… call it what the fuck you want, but don't pretend for one second that your sorry, pea-sized brain was focused on the prize here."

"The prize…" the man repeated, genuine confusion clouding his chiselled, bruised features as he regarded John, who was breathing hard through his nose in an effort to quell his own rising - and spectacularly short - temper.

Garrett's lips set into a line, and he began to pace the small, dingy space with growing anger, offset by the faintest traces of desperation.

"I don't care how your precious little feelings are hurt. I don't give a shit about who's fucking the damn girl. I just want her here… alive," a sadistic smile lit up his features, "at least until Whitehall's finished with her, anyway… so I can live forever."

The young Hydra agent shook his head, wiping absently at his lip as he asked askance, "But I thought you just wanted the cure, I…"

Leaning closer until his breath could be felt against his protege's cheek, Garrett explained, "Well, you know what 'thought' did, don't you, son?! Plan's changed. That serum might have cured Coulson, but he's still gonna die one day. Now I know where she came from… what her mother was… why would I settle for a cure when I can be immortal?!"

The man's deep brown eyes widened in evident surprise, and he dropped his gaze down to the ground as he felt a fresh surge of anger threaten to overcome him. Feeling the weight of Garrett's hand slam down against his shoulder in a mockingly paternal gesture, he avoided the other's man's gaze.

"So you bring her to me, and you don't do anything else stupid. Because if something goes wrong, I'm going to be very, very upset. You understand?"

"Yes sir," he said hurriedly, eager to please and faced with the realisation that he had almost jeopardised the way to save the man who had literally pulled him out of Hell; the man to whom he owed everything.

"And?" Garrett coaxed, arching an eyebrow and glaring pointedly at the younger man, who straightened up, looking every inch the proud and pliant soldier once more.

"I'm sorry, sir," he replied, looking genuinely distraught for the first time since he had realised his own failing, "I can promise, it won't happen again."

"Damn skippy it won't, kid," Garrett growled, one hand finding the back of the man's head, drawing him close so that their faces were only inches apart, "because if you authorise a kill order one more time without my permission, the next corpse hitting the ground will be yours. Do I make myself clear? You got lucky this time."

Swallowing hard and wincing at the pain in his throat, the man nodded. "Crystal, sir. Consider it done."

Garrett looked him up and down, replying with a snarl, "It better be. Now… get the fuck out of my sight. Next time I hear from you, you better have that pretty little hacker babe with you. I don't care how you do it, just make sure she's alive… unconscious, I can work with. Jeez that kid can talk."

Noting how the young agent had made no effort to move, Garrett barked, "Did I stutter? Get out of my sight."

With a curt yet wholly submissive nod of his head, the man turned and disappeared hurriedly up the stairs, all of his earlier swagger and ego well and truly gone.

Pressing a palm to his chest, Garrett sat down in one of the empty chairs and rubbed hard at his ribcage. He felt his heart flutter almost painfully beneath his hand.

He sensed his expiration date was near, and without Skye his chances of survival were slim to none. Now was not the time to have to question the loyalty of his most trusted lackey, so if Garrett himself had to intervene, then so help him, he would.

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** _ _ **Providence, April 2014**__**

"The footage we have is limited," Coulson explained in a low and somewhat morose voice as he tapped away at the tablet in his hand in order to bring up the images on its screen onto the monitor mounted to the wall. "We get about two minutes of the strike team that led the escape before someone starts taking out the cameras."

Fitz and Simmons exchanged worried glances with each other before both simultaneously peering across the lounge at Skye, who was tucked into Ward's side snugly. Ward himself was wearing an expression of sheer, stone cold hostility, which suggested he was poised to burn the world down on Skye's behalf, should it come to it.

"One thing we have managed to ascertain is that there's a clear leader calling all the shots," May spoke up and the two scientists started, surprised by her sudden appearance in the doorway, where she continued to stand with her arms folded across her chest. "It lends credence to the theory that Garrett has a right hand man in all of this."

"Or woman," Simmons voiced, somewhat snootily.

"Clearly a man," May reiterated, gesturing to the wide screen as Coulson stabbed the relevant button and the grainy video images began to play out for the occupants of the lounge to see.

"Whoah!" Fitz's eyes widened as he watched the one - apparently lead soldier- take out five guards totally by himself. He carried himself with a familiar confidence that made the Scot turn to Ward in an appraising manner before turning his head back to the screen. "This bloke's almost as good as you!"

May stood with her arms folded, her gaze flitting every now and then to Skye, who was perhaps the most subdued she'd ever seen the young woman.

Her tone indicating there was no room for argument, she shook her head. "No, he's not. This guy lacks fluidity. He's awkward, stilted…"

Fitz emitted a briefly contemplative squeak before he replied.

"Well, he's just taken down a bunch of S.H.I.E.L.D. guards and run up…" he checked the figures on the bottom of the screen that indicated which floor the cameras were positioned on, "six flights of stairs… and now he's killed two more of them."

May leaned over the scientist's shoulder, watching the figure on the screen as he battled his way towards Garrett's cell, now with a team of eight soldiers at his command. She took in his movements, watching closely as if offering up an appraisal. Finally, straightening up and walking away from the tablet screen, she tossed over her shoulder, "Ward and I are better."

"I'll be sure to write up a detailed comparison," Coulson said, rolling his eyes as he attempted to divert the teams' collective attention back to the video, which was drawing to an end with the soldier beginning to tug open the door of Garrett's cell. He seemed to pause in his task for just a moment, peering inside the dimly lit prison perhaps to ascertain the well-being of his boss, before he turned to the watching camera and fired a single round dead into the lens.

"That's where it ends?" Simmons checked, finding that she was leaning forward in her seat, enthralled by the extremely macabre scene playing out.

"They systematically take out every camera from this point out," Coulson explained, shaking his head as he added, "it's almost like the guy wanted us to see what he was capable of before he got to Garrett."

"A warning? You think?" Fitz asked, frowning as he considered the idea, "doesn't seem very…"

"Peacocking," Ward's voice rang out clearly in the room as he stared at the monitor, which was no longer showing anything of specific interest, "he's showing off."

"We need to find out who this guy is," Skye suggested, attempting to lift her own spirits by feeling useful, "maybe I can clean up some of the images. We can try to ID him. I mean… I guess he's the one Garrett's gonna send after us."

Coulson awarded her his most genuine and patient smile as he knelt down in front of her, "Skye, I promise you… whoever, whatever they send… we'll deal with. We got this. Just trust us, okay? Ward and May? They're not just the best S.H.I.E.L.D. has, they're the best anyone has. If this guy wants a fight, he can have one. But it's a fight he's gonna lose."

"You sound so certain," Skye managed a brief smile, trying to calm her nerves as she felt Ward's arm hug her closer.

Coulson shrugged, as if it were obvious that he was right. "I am. We're your family now, Skye. And a family looks out for each other."

Lowering his voice so as not to embarrass the pair, he nodded up to Ward who had yet to tear his gaze from Skye's face. "And if you saw how he's looking at you right now, you'd know you've got nothing to be afraid of."

Blushing, Skye dropped her gaze to her lap, chewing on her bottom lip as she nodded.

"Thanks, A.C.," she murmured, pushing her hair out of her eyes and behind her ear as Coulson rose to his feet.

"Okay, so Fitz I want you to work with Skye. I know those guys were mostly wearing balaclavas but see what you can dredge up from the footage; a distinctive tattoo, an unusually expensive watch, a large hickey… I don't care, just get what you can," Coulson encouraged before turning to regard Simmons, "Jemma, I want you to keep looking over Garrett's medical records. See if you can't find something to speed up this impending death of his. Bonus points if you can make it painful."

"I could help with the video imaging software," Koenig volunteered brightly, turning momentarily to regard May before he added, "perhaps those of us not doing anything constructive could get lunch started? I was thinking about meatloaf. Or maybe a paella."

Eyebrow arched in evident amusement, May shot the LMD a glare that he seemed not to pick up on. She wondered just how intuitive he was to subtle human gestures.

"Well, you can get right on that after you've helped Skye with the surveillance footage."

Raising her hand weakly, Skye shrugged, happy to have a task to take her mind off her newest source of misery, and thoughts of her own mortality.

"Oh, I'm good."

May shook her head, "Keonig has all the image banks from law enforcement agencies stored in his memory. It'll make this whole process a lot quicker if he helps you."

Smiling proudly at the Specialist's summation of just part of his data processing abilities, Koenig said vehemently, "Say no more, I'm on the case."

He frowned as he looked Skye up and down, and he noted the absence of one key item around her neck. "Did I not give you a lanyard? I was certain I did."

Glancing up at Ward accusingly, Skye cleared her throat, recalling when said lanyard had been gently pulled from around her neck and then not so gently tossed somewhere over Ward's shoulder in a rather heated exchange in their bedroom. Ward's cheeks blushed red, and he resisted the urge to smirk, instead adopting a blank expression that said he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

"No matter. I can find you a new one."

"Great," Skye smiled tightly, her expression brightening somewhat as she saw Simmons giggling into her teacup as she watched the exchange.

"Sir, not to immediately throw a spanner in the works when you've just got everything so nicely ironed out…" Fitz began, shooting Coulson a wan smile that he deflected immediately with a wave of his hand.

"Spit it out, Agent Fitz," Coulson encouraged, hiding a grin of his own when the scientist bristled.

"It's just… what's in store for S.H.I.E.L.D. now, sir?" he asked, glancing around the room at each friend and team member, all of whom were wearing expressions of equal curiosity now that the matter had been raised.

"He's right," May said, her attention completely on Coulson, who seemed uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny when he was still doing his best to chase down concrete answers himself. "What are our orders, Phil?"

Coulson folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the table behind him as he thought over their current predicament.

"Our orders?" he scanned each and every face in his team, "officially, we don't have any. S.H.I.E.L.D. has fallen, it's gone. For the time being, anyway. So, until then, we're gonna carry on as we were before, just… under the radar."

Fitz nodded, although his expression was troubled. "Sir, aren't we… I mean, technically, wouldn't we be operating outside the law?"

Without missing a beat, Coulson nodded. "Absolutely. So if you - if any of you - have a problem with that, you can walk away now, no questions asked, no hard feelings."

Shaking his head vigorously, Fitz widened his eyes, "No. No, I'm in."

"Me too," Simmons stated definitely, smiling as she placed her hand on Fitz's shoulder as she explained, "can't have FitzSimmons without Simmons, can we?!"

"Laws were made to be broken, right?" Skye declared, giving a tiny shrug as though that gesture alone should convey her thoughts on the matter.

"Well, technically, not really…" Coulson added, torn between being pleased that their now resident hacker would be joining them, and yet also feeling a sense of responsibility as the only present parental figure to dissuade her from that particular line of thinking.

"I refuse to believe that nuns taught you that," Grant stated, smirking as he shot a glance at his girlfriend, who only peered back at him through wide eyes. Turning to Coulson, he declared, "You know I'm in, whatever you need, to the end."

"May?" Coulson probed, arching a brow at the Specialist, who was the only team member yet to make her decision known. Pausing for a beat, May surveyed the faces before her, all wearing expressions that betrayed varying levels of concern that she might choose to abandon them when she was needed most.

Rolling her eyes, May scoffed, "Someone needs to keep you knuckleheads from screwing this up monumentally."

Coulson smiled at her in thanks, relieved that he wouldn't be shouldering this burden alone. And really, there was nobody he trusted more than Melinda May. She'd been such a constant presence in his life throughout his career at S.H.I.E.L.D., that he couldn't imagine even attempting to rebuild the organisation without her.

"Magic!" Fitz enthused, rubbing his hands together gleefully, "looks like all the gang's staying. So… what next then, boss?"

Standing up from where he had been perched on a table, Coulson looked at each of his team in turn. "Well, I think it's best to operate out of Providence for the next couple of months. It's completely secure, nobody but me and Fury know about this place, and we have access to all the technology and S.H.I.E.L.D. resources we may need. But as far as a _plan_ , Fitz? It's business as usual. I got word this morning that there's possible 084 activity out in Washington. We could leave tomorrow… if you're all in agreement?"

"Long as it's not sparkly vampires, sounds good to me," Skye bobbed her head, thrilled to not only have another avenue to channel her thoughts and energies, but also to once again be physically on the move. Staying in one place too long was probably not a good thing if Garrett was still pursuing them.

"I can have the final repairs made on the BUS by this evening," May added, "we'll need to refuel and stock up on supplies, but we can be ready to move out by 0800."

"Perfect," Koenig declared, "you guys go out and save the world, and I'll stay here, hold down the fort, as it were. Run mission control."

The team exchanged glances, Skye and Simmons doing their level best not to smirk at each other like a pair of naughty schoolgirls.

"I'll be like… your Splinter!" he continued to enthuse, his eyes brightening with each word.

"An irritating pain?" Simmons murmured, shooting a look at Skye, who hid her mouth behind her palm in an effort to not be discovered silently giggling.

"No, like your Master Splinter," Koenig corrected her, the sarcasm apparently lost on him, "you know? TMNT? Heroes in a half shell! _Turtle power_! _Cowabunga dudes_!"

"Is he malfunctioning?" Fitz checked, turning to Coulson, "because I could open him up and take a wee look if you like?"

Valiantly managing to resist the urge to hold his head in his hands in a fit of despair, Coulson instead simply muttered under his breath, "The world is doomed."


	3. Episode 2 - Part I

**__**Okay guys, here's the first of our 'monster of the week' stories. There will still be mentions of our main Garret storyline, but as we said, we're writing more fun, stand alone episodes. Each episode will be 2 to 3 chapters long.**__**

 ** _ _ **Warning: Ranting authors' note at the end!**__**

* * *

 ** _ _ **Terror Takes The Sound**__**

 ** _ _ **Before You Make It'**__**

 ** _ _ **Part One**__**

 ** _ _ **The BUS, 25**__** ** _ _ **th**__** ** _ _ **April 2014**__**

The scream was long, anguished, desperate - the last cry for help that she could muster before her body, bloodied and torn, rose off the bed. She flopped like a fresh caught fish out of water, arms and legs thrashing wildly in an attempt to fend off her attacker, who was relentless to say the least. The lacerations to her chest were deep and crimson ran in rivers from the wounds, which were perhaps beyond treatable at that point already. One thing was abundantly clear - she would die tonight, and they could do nothing but watch.

Covering her eyes with her hand, Simmons grimaced as she pulled her legs up onto the couch at her side. From his position on the floor, Fitz continued to stare at the television, shovelling fistfuls of popcorn into his mouth as he did so.

"You know, I think Freddy is one of the most under-appreciated supernatural killers out there," he commented, around a mouthful of food, which partially sprayed from his lips and onto his jeans as he spoke.

"How can a serial killer be under-appreciated?" Ward demanded, frowning at his friend as he attempted to block out the sounds of Tina Grey being massacred on the screen.

Removing the end of the Twizzler that she'd been gnawing on from her mouth, Skye snuggled into Ward's embrace, pleased when his hold around her tightened.

"I'm still pissed they kill Johnny Depp so soon. I mean… seriously? You don't murder the hot guy."

Simmons nodded in approval, "Oh, and he was so very, very hot."

"Mmm-hmm," Skye agreed, staring somewhat misty-eyed off into space for just a moment as she contemplated the finer points of the Hollywood heartthrob's cheekbones.

Fitz glanced up at the girls with a sour expression, rummaging in his bowl of popcorn as he muttered disparagingly, "If you like that sort of thing."

Skye giggled, craning her neck in order to look up at Ward. She couldn't help the airy sigh that left her body when he intercepted her gaze and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"You mean tall, dark, and impossibly handsome?" Skye smiled coyly at her boyfriend, sliding her hand across his chest and grinning as he chased her lips for another kiss, although this time it was much slower and hungrier.

Without tearing his gaze from the screen, Fitz arched an eyebrow, moving the bowl helpfully toward Jemma so that she could dig in with her own hand.

"He doesn't look that tall to me…" Fitz began, turning around to address Skye, and rolling his eyes as he found her caught up in a clinch with the now worryingly demonstrative Specialist. "Right. Aaaand you weren't talking about Johnny. Hey, do you think you two could knock that off for a while? We're trying to enjoy senseless, bloody murders here."

Shuddering, Simmons glanced down at Fitz as she declared, "Well, I for one am certainly not enjoying it. I don't see why we couldn't have watched 'Marley and Me'."

Snorting, Skye tore her lips away from Ward's only long enough to taunt him by calling out, "Because you know films about puppies make the robot emote."

Ward shot his girlfriend a scowl that was perhaps only half serious, although he would be damned if he would admit as much to her. He found her teasing and taunting cute for the most part, but she would be completely unbearable if she ever suspected as much.

"Don't think I didn't see you bawling at 'Homeward Bound'," Ward accused her, tugging on the candy that she had popped back into her mouth and then quickly biting off the end before she could so much as squeak a protest at him.

"Oh, don't remind me," Simmons gushed, tears in her eyes as she added, "when he falls into the hole and he really wants to crawl back out again so that he can get back to the little boy but he's just too tired and his legs are probably arthritic and…"

"My God woman, can I watch the movie?" Fitz demanded, his voice rising as he shot Jemma such a dirty look that she was prompted to poke her tongue out at him.

Not phased by the Scot's outburst, Ward shot Skye a vaguely scandalous smile, and she launched herself at his lips with renewed vigour. His hand caressed the small of her back, and she shivered as his fingertips stroked her skin beneath her shirt. The shrieking of Freddy's next victim conveniently hid the small noise of desire she made low in her throat. She broke away from their kisses panting, eyes half closed as she felt his fingers move to caress the back of her neck. They ghosted down her collar bone next and towards her breast. Skye only giggled at the nonchalant expression on his face even as his eyes ticked to FitzSimmons, the former of whom was staring at the screen, and the latter of whom was hiding behind a pillow.

Under cover of darkness, Skye kissed him back, lost in the sensation of his tongue against hers; that was until she felt a missile land unceremoniously in her hair. Upon looking up, Fitz was eyeing them with open disdain, although as Ward retrieved the piece of popcorn from Skye's hair and threw it back - hitting the scientist square in the forehead - it rapidly became annoyance.

"Can we just watch the film?" Fitz begged, exasperated. He turned back around and folded his arms across his chest. Pointing excitedly to the screen, he announced with great relish, "Oooh, this is a good bit! God, listen to that music… so creepy and atmospheric. Singing kiddies… ugh."

He shuddered for added effect.

"At the risk of being shouted at again," Simmons arched an eyebrow at Fitz that practically dared him to interrupt her, and picked nervously at the edges of the cushion held in her lap. "Does anybody else feel it's perhaps in poor taste to be watching a slasher film when there are three bodies waiting for us in a morgue, just hours away?"

Fitz debated it for a second and then replied, "Nah. Besides, our killer's an alien. Totally different brand of psycho."

"Hey!" Skye picked up the nearest scatter cushion from the couch and threw it at Fitz to protest his insinuation, "084's have feelings too!"

Assuaging her with a kiss to the temple, Ward tugged her into his side before adding his own two cents on the subject of their viewing choice.

"Maybe Jemma's right," he suggested, earning himself a nod of gratitude from the Brit, "maybe we should pick another movie? Something less… gratuitous."

Fitz winced, as if not quite believing what he was hearing. "Ughh, says the big, bad Specialist who can find 1001 less than savoury things to do to someone with a paper clip."

Ward's jaw set, and he shook his head at the ludicrous accusation. None of the choices he'd made as a Specialist had been easy, and he'd learned to live with his job only by managing to convince himself that the cause he served was a noble one.

"I'm not a serial killer, Fitz. I'm not insane."

"That's debatable," snorted the scientist in response, "I've seen the way you drive, Ward."

Scowling, Grant turned his face away from his friend, who proceeded to stuff more popcorn in his mouth before anyone else could choose to attack him for his guilty viewing pleasures. Although Skye had been the one to suggest making her way through the impressive horror movie back catalogue saved on her hard drive, Fitz had been a more than willing accomplice. Jemma had been the least enthusiastic of the bunch, which was certainly not due to any kind of aversion to blood and gore, given her career speciality.

"I don't know what your problem is," Fitz continued after he had finished swallowing, "it's not like you're actually scared of monsters, is it?"

He peered at Jemma, his eyes narrowing in accusation as he awaited a response from his best friend, who appeared outraged at the very idea.

"Of course not," she snapped, stealing another handful from the bowl, mainly just to irritate Fitz rather than to sate any actual hunger, "I don't believe in any of that nonsense and you know it Leopold Fitz."

"Full name, someone's in trouble," Skye snickered as she covered her mouth with her hand and whispered to Ward, who managed to rein in his laughter valiantly.

"Heard that," Fitz tossed over his shoulder, before rounding on Skye with curiosity suddenly shining brightly within his eyes, "but what about you, huh? As our resident flake and borderline hippie, I suppose you believe in all those things that go bump in the night?"

Brow furrowed and mouth hanging open indignantly, Skye tossed her head at the accusation.

"Uh, flake?" turning to Ward who almost reeled back at the indignant expression flashing dangerously across her features, she demanded, "I'm a _flake_?"

Ward floundered, obviously taken aback at how the question had suddenly fallen on him, whilst Fitz simply smirked, tossing another piece of popcorn into his mouth.

"Aw, come on now. He's not gonna tell the truth cos he wants to get into your pants… and, you know, he loves you and all that sappy stuff."

Ward smiled and cocked his head at Fitz's summation.

"Both true. But…" he began, holding up his hands as he explained, "I don't think you're a flake. You're just… less locked down than the rest of us."

"A free spirit!" Jemma offered with a beaming smile, "and we wouldn't be without you, would we Fitz?"

Seemingly affronted at the suggestion, Fitz shook his head as he grunted, "Course we wouldn't!"

Skye huffed, although the smile she directed at Jemma was genuinely affectionate.

Noting that Fitz had paused the movie, she rested her head back against Ward's chest and said somewhat snootily, "And actually, I don't believe in all that stuff. Sorry to disappoint. I mean, I like horror movies, sure, but none of it's real. If there's one thing I learned growing up, it's that humans are scary enough. I didn't need a monster under my bed to give me nightmares."

"Really?" Fitz asked with evident interest, suddenly discarding his bowl and leaning forwards to peer at Skye as though she were one of his more fascinating experiments, "you don't believe any of it? After everything we've seen? Not even wee ghosties and stuff?"

Arching a brow, Skye managed to contain the smile she felt tugging at the corners of her lips as she shook her head at Fitz. He seemed genuinely disappointed by her revelation, peering down at the carpet with a creased brow as he attempted to make sense of the development he had not been expecting.

"What about you, Fitz?" Ward pressed, attempting to shift the attention from Skye, who shot him a look that exuded her gratitude. "Do you believe in that stuff?"

Fitz didn't even miss a beat as he replied immediately, "Of course I do. It's a big, wide world out there, Ward, and as amazing as modern science is, it still can't explain everything. I'm not arrogant enough to think that this one is the only plane of existence, no pun intended since we're on an actual plane, but neither should you be."

Ward deflected his comment with a shrug, "If I can see it and touch it, it's real. I'm not really a 'take it on a little faith' kind of guy, Fitz."

He explained patiently, watching as the Scot frowned and muttered somewhat dejectedly, Skye's revelation having unexpectedly presented him to be the only believer amongst them.

"I'm a Mulder in a room full of Scullys," he lamented, reaching for the remote control to restart their movie as Simmons snorted in amusement under her breath.

"In your dreams, Fitz."

Releasing an obnoxiously loud yawn, Skye stretched out in an over exaggerated fashion before resting her head on Ward's shoulder again. She looked up at him with curiosity.

"So what kind of movies do you like? I can't really imagine you being some film geek with movie posters all over their bedroom walls and a Super 8 in the basement."

Ward was quiet for a moment before he replied, noting with slight unease how FitzSimmons had turned in his direction, apparently also eager to learn more about the infamous Specialist who had a penchant for secrecy.

"The local theatre was a place I could escape to, I guess. To get away from my family," he managed to maintain an impassive front as he explained, "I'd sneak in and watch all kinds of movies. Didn't matter really, it was just a chance to spend a couple of hours by myself. Safe."

Skye reached for his hand, clasping it tight before giving it a squeeze. She knew already that Ward wasn't one to suffer anybody else's sympathy and so she made no issue of the information he had chosen to reveal, hoping that FitzSimmons would likewise choose to leave it be.

"I used to sneak into the movies too," she stated, her grin wicked as she continued, "mostly the R-rated stuff when I was like, 14 or something. They were kind of boring really but the look on Mother Superior's face afterwards was worth it every time."

Tsking and doing her best to look reproachful, Jemma said, "You must be the only person I know who thinks its sport to torment nuns."

Eyes widened to convey her point, Skye held her hands up and gesticulated wildly, "Hey! They asked for it. There were some seriously mean nuns at that orphanage. I was just… keepin' them on their toes."

"This explains a lot," Ward smiled at her wolfishly, and Skye waggled her eyebrows as she thought back on some of her more risqué viewing experiences and some of their more recent bedroom escapades.

"The '9 & 1/2 Weeks' revival was super informative," she enthused, giggling as Simmons' cheeks blushed a violent shade of red.

Fitz cleared his throat, his tone pointed, "So… who wants to see Freddy get his just desserts? Here we go then."

He stabbed the button on the remote and, aside from a grinning Skye, the other three agents began to watch the climax of the horror movie with varying degrees of interest and resulting disgust.

Leaning in and whispering into Grant's ear, Skye teased, "I have _that_ movie on my hard drive too… I'm just saying."

Ward turned to look at her, his features momentarily displaying something that resembled surprise, but Skye chuckled as she chided him, "Don't go getting all scandalised on me, robot."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ward replied, holding her gaze impressively until it was Skye herself who was forced to first look away, her ears suddenly burning. Ward turned back to the television screen, no longer fully aware of the bloody mayhem playing out on it as he internally began to anticipate later watching a movie of a very different genre. For the most part, life on the BUS was proving to be amazing.

 ** **x-x-x****

 ** **Forks, Washington****

 ** **26**** ** **th**** ** **April 2014****

"When Agent Coulson said our investigations would have to take a more discrete turn from now on, I had no idea he meant… this!" Simmons hissed as she gestured down to the pants suit she wore, to the breast pocket of which was attached a fake FBI identity card, courtesy of Skye's Photoshop skills.

At her side, Grant walked, striding easily down the corridor as he followed signs that directed them to the hospital morgue. He seemed to be less than even mildly concerned about their sudden appropriation of fake IDs, and it had taken Jemma several minutes to remember that Ward was a Specialist - a spy first and foremost, and playing a role was his bread and butter.

Passing the reception desk of the morgue, Ward held up his ID and discretely elbowed Simmons in the back to spur her into action. She let out a surprised 'oh' and held up her counterfeit card with far less confidence than her colleague.

The young man glanced up from his comic book and shrugged, taking a bite of the sandwich he held in his hand before sighing when a glob of mayo fell onto the page he'd been pouring over.

"Second door on the left," he instructed, rubbing at the stain with his sleeve and not bothering to look up.

Simmons, somewhat appalled at his lackadaisical approach to his duties, pressed, "I'm Agent… Carter, we're here… uh.. on official FBI business…"

She announced each individual word with glee, her attempt at an American accent making Ward visibly wince.

"Whatever, dude," the man waved his hand dismissively, eyes still glued to his comic.

Ward clenched his teeth, grabbing Simmons' arm gently but firmly and propelling her down the hall, until she was scrambling to keep pace with him.

"I talk, you listen, got it?" Grant instructed her, his tone stern but not unkind, "from now on, if anyone asks, you've got laryngitis."

"Oh, was the accent really that bad?" asked Jemma, crestfallen. "I've been practising."

Valiantly resisting the urge to laugh, Ward only shot Jemma a blank look as he replied, "Think about every time Skye has attempted an English accent and then multiply that by about ten."

Her mouth dropping open as she prepared to protest, Simmons planted both hands on her hips. Abruptly, the wind seemed to leave her sails, and her posture deflated, her hands dropping back to her sides.

"Laryngitis, got it," she said, although she couldn't hide the disappointed edge to her voice. Ward smiled at her and they pushed open the door to the morgue together, striding into the compact room, which housed a storage facility so small that it was barely able to accommodate half a dozen bodies at once. However, it was a comparatively small town, a popular destination in recent years only thanks to its association with a book franchise that Simmons refused to admit she had read.

"Ma'am, we're with the FBI. This is Agent Carter and I'm Agent Taylor," Ward stated, nodding towards Simmons who held out her ID badge this time with slightly more of a flourish.

Jemma was pleased to find the town coroner was female - a rather pretty, young, blonde female - who pulled down the mask covering her nose and mouth in order to look Ward up and down, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

"Here about the murders," she assumed rather than asked, and Ward nodded in reply, offering her a quiet 'yes, ma'am'.

Walking over towards a row of metal gurneys, she gestured to three bodies, all covered in surgical sheet and tagged on the toe with a label.

"I'm not sure what to tell you, Agents. I've completed autopsies on all three victims, and honestly? I know what killed them, I just don't know how it killed them."

Wincing as she realised her description wasn't entirely helpful, she pulled back the sheet on one of the corpses and snapped a pair of latex gloves out of the box on the table beside the trolley.

"Do you mind?" She tossed a pair of gloves to Ward and peered down at the body, whose ashen skin was offset by the y-shaped incision that had been made down the unfortunate soul's sternum.

Trying not to make a face of disgust, Ward dutifully pulled on the gloves, awaiting further instruction as Simmons stood at his side and tapped her pencil impatiently on the notepad in her hand. She was eyeing the body with eagerness as opposed to revulsion - a true indication of her levels of dedication to science.

"If you can help me turn him, please," the doctor began, letting Ward roll the body from one side whilst she held him from the other and pointed to the two strange incisions on the victim's back. "All of the victims died from a myocardical infarction; a heart attack. But what's strange is that every victim showed massively elevated levels of adrenaline."

"The fight or flight hormone?" Ward narrowed his eyes, having overcome his initial disdain enough to sweep his gaze analytically over the body without finding himself overcome by the urge to gag.

"Yes," the coroner confirmed, shooting him a brief smile that indicated he was doing something to increase her own hormone levels. "It increases energy supplies, raises blood pressure, and elevates the heart rate. In this case, the effects on the heart were fatal. And in each victim, when I opened them up, their adrenal glands are… missing."

"Missing?" Jemma adopted a croak, hoping her terrible accent would be concealed. Ward shot her a pointed glare and she cleared her throat to feign discomfort.

"Laryngitis," Ward explained to the coroner as he hooked a thumb in Simmons' direction. Nodding, the doctor ploughed on with her findings.

"The adrenal glands have been removed. Although, I can't even begin to tell you how," the doctor said, reaching out and pressing a gloved finger next to a tiny puncture mark in the man's back. "I'm guessing this was the route of entry, but how the Hell they got them out of there… causing very little damage to the kidney tissue…"

She stood up and shrugged, pointing at Ward to indicate that he could roll the corpse back over.

Relieved to finally be able to gain some distance from the body, Ward pulled off the gloves and discarded them in the trash can whilst the coroner replaced the sheet around her cadaver with all the care of a mother tucking in her child for the night.

"I have to say, after five years in this job, this is probably my most interesting case yet," the coroner said, pausing to grin at Ward and Simmons in turn. "I love mysteries, don't you?"

"At the F.B.I., not so much," Ward dead-panned, shooting a glance at Jemma, who was busily scrawling notes in her book, no longer paying attention to the conversation occurring around her.

"I guess not," the coroner conceded, pursing her lips before she declared, "I'd sure be interested to find out how your guy did this, once you've caught him, that is."

Offering a small smile that he knew was non-committal, Ward gestured to the concealed bodies as he inquired, "Could we get a copy of the autopsy reports before we leave?"

Nodding, the coroner headed over to her computer, beginning to tap away at the keyboard quickly. An enormous, ancient looking printer rumbled into life, spitting out pieces of paper at a painfully slow rate.

Ward frowned at the reams of paperwork - indicating all three reports were headed their way - although since Skye had gone to the trouble of setting up a fake FBI email address, he had assumed the reports would be provided in a more digital format.

"Internet's down. Sorry," the coroner smiled by way of apology. Hoisting up the wads of paper, she slipped them into a folder and handed them to Ward, who nodded his thanks.

"Keep me posted, okay?" she asked hopefully, returning the polite smile Jemma shot her as a departing gesture.

"Thank you for your time. We'll be in touch if we have any further questions," Ward assured her, dropping in a well-rehearsed smile of his own before he and Jemma made their way to the door of the morgue and strolled with increased urgency out of the hospital building.

Reaching the unmarked, black S.H.I.E.L.D. SUV, Ward unlocked the car and the pair slid into the front seats.

Simmons jumped slightly as Skye's head popped over the back seat of the vehicle, and the younger woman beamed at them whilst Ward jammed the key into the ignition.

"Did it go okay?" she asked, her gaze ticking excitedly between the pair, "did you see the bodies? Were they all bloody? And mangled? Horribly disfigured?"

"No, they were not, actually…" Ward began, trailing off as Skye peered back at him with such characteristic exuberance that he had to pause to simply smile at her. "Okay, what is it?"

Her smile widening, Skye arched a dark eyebrow, her enthusiasm causing Simmons to frown in preparation for the dismay she felt certain was about to overcome her.

"I'm glad you asked, Agent Ward. Cos whilst you two were in there playing Feds, I was hacking into… you know, actually, it doesn't matter what I was hacking. But I found the 911 call that the third victim made just before he was murdered. The guy was freaking out, locked in his room… shouting about... okay, hang on, let me play it for you. This is seriously messed up shit!"

Holding aloft the laptop, she tapped her finger on the mouse pad a few times and within seconds the terrified and confused voice of the caller filled the car.

 _"_ _ _911, what's your emergency?"__

 _"_ _ _He's here, he's after me! I… He's trying to kill me__ _ _!"__

The call operator tried multiple times to calm the man down, not managing to extract his location or any other key details aside from one sentence that made all three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents' eyes widen in surprise.

 _"_ _ _It's him, it's… it's Michael Myers!"__

Her expression nothing short of victorious, Skye stabbed the mouse pad and raised an eyebrow at Jemma and Grant in turn. Both agents exchanged looks that were dumbfounded to say the least, Ward for once not bothering to mask his surprise in favour of seeming the most put together of the group.

"Michael Myers?" he repeated askance, his mouth opening and closing for several seconds as he faltered for words. When a suitable response escaped him, he simply repeated, "Michael Myers?"

"Are we certain he meant __that__ Michael Myers?" Simmons demanded, making exaggerated stabbing motions with her clenched right hand, "stabby stabby? I mean, perhaps he had some sort of disagreement with a gentleman named…"

"Named after one of the horror genre's most notorious supernatural killers?" Skye inserted, looking as though she was trying desperately not to burst out laughing as a result of Simmons' vaguely terrified floundering.

Ward pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, sighing uncomfortably as he replied, "Fine. Let's call it in."

He could already picture Coulson and May's faces at the news, and it wasn't instilling him with enthusiasm.

Skye's hand suddenly shot out and landed on his shoulder, stopping him in his figurative tracks. "Wait. That's not all."

"Oh surely not?" Simmons' lips knit into a frown, and she eyed her friend with obvious trepidation.

Skye offered them what was supposed to be a placating smile, but the gesture was completely overruled by the slightly manic and wholly excitable gleam in her brown eyes. And that made Jemma nervous. In her experience, whenever Skye exhibited such enthusiasm, she usually ended up getting into trouble.

"The second victim, Forrest Brent… his room-mate got this crazy call from him right before… before he, you know," she used her hands to gesture, hurrying the unfinished sentence along, and then captured both their gazes with wide eyes. "And get this… he was shouting about being followed home… by Ghostface."

"Ghostface?" Simmons shook her head to demonstrate her obliviousness to the name. Her movie watching credentials only really existed in the rom-com, sappy drama end of the viewing spectrum, until she had met Skye that was.

Ward closed his eyes for a moment, processing the information. "The guy from the 'Scream' movies?"

"Very same!" Skye trilled, obviously delighted with the sudden turn in events.

Simmons remained silent for a few moments before she said somewhat cautiously, "I hate to disappoint you, Skye, but this is beginning to sound more and more as though the murderer could be a socio-path with a penchant for dressing up. This might be completely outside of our remit after all."

"Doesn't explain our missing adrenal glands though," observed Ward, shooting a glance at Jemma, who frowned as she realised that he was correct in that respect at least.

Leaning forwards even further over the backs of the seats, her grin practically splitting her face in half, Skye latched her hand onto Ward's shoulder. Forgetting herself in her excitement, her fingertips dug into him, almost on the verge of being painful.

"I couldn't find much on victim number three, Mario Bianchi - he was completely alone when he died, no evidence at the crime scene just like the others, but…" Skye dropped her voice almost to a whisper, eyes positively shining as she relayed, "the police found him several feet away from his laptop, and guess what was paused on screen?"

"I'm going out on a limb here and guessing it wasn't 'Oklahoma'," Ward replied, his head dropping back against the headrest on his seat, reflecting his faint despair. He could already sense where Skye's tangent was going.

" 'Friday the 13th'… Part two… Or three. Anyway, I don't know about you, but I'm thinking something pretty funky's going on here, guys."

Ward narrowed his eyes, contemplating the scenarios and their apparent similarities. "What's with the sudden run on horror movies? Halloween's nine months away."

Skye nodded her head vehemently.

"Yep. Already thought about that," she agreed, clearly delighted to be in full mystery solving mode, "this is where those really hokey vampire movies were made, right? The undead Kardashians, or whatever. Well, looks like the locals cash in on the whole horror thing, cos there's like a dozen sci-fi and scary movie festivals here every year. And.. one happening right now. The annual Forks Fright Fest!"

Inhaling slowly and with a renewed sense of urgency, Ward gunned the engine and glanced back at Skye, prompting her to sit back and fasten her seatbelt.

She stared at him blankly for a moment before suddenly realising why he'd affixed Coulson's patented 'dad' expression onto his handsome face. "Oh. Right."

Clambering back into her seat and yanking the belt across herself with force, Skye closed the laptop, managing to catch Ward's gaze in the mirror.

"So… are we going to talk to the room mate? Stake out that movie festival… sneak in and make out in the back row?" she demanded, seeming positively swept up in all the aforementioned ideas.

"Oh dear Lord, I hope not," Simmons muttered under her breath, clipping her own belt into place just as Ward reversed out of the parking spot they had occupied.

"We're headed back to the BUS. Coulson needs to hear all of this and then we can decide how to proceed," Ward relayed, his attention affixed firmly on the road ahead as he merged the SUV with the traffic.

"This is exciting!" Skye crooned, her eyes flashing as she affixed Ward with a look in the rear view mirror and prompted, "isn't this exciting?"

Ward couldn't help but smirk, pleased to see Skye having regained her usual enthusiasm and buoyancy, especially in light of Garrett's escape. It seemed that the best form of distraction for the hacker really was throwing herself into the weird and wonderful world of their work. It was just a shame that three individuals had had to die in order for that to happen.

They drew to a halt quite suddenly at a set of lights, and Skye smiled to herself as she reached forward and brushed her fingertips affectionately down the very appealing line of Ward's neck. He jerked away from her in a decidedly un-Specialist-like move that left her giggling gleefully to herself.

Directing her gaze to the lanes of traffic outside her window, Skye rolled her eyes as she drawled. "Yep, still ticklish."

* * *

 ** **Authors' Note - SPOILER ALERT - STOP READING NOW IF YOU WATCH THE SHOW STILL…**** So, apparently Grant Ward is back, but for just how long we're uncertain. You'd think we'd be thrilled about this new development, however, this smacks of desperation on the writers' parts due to the recent failing ratings. All we can figure is that they have finally realised how large the Ward and Skyeward fandoms are respectively, and are attempting to claw back viewers by dangling the character on a hook in front of us. Can we expect his story lines to suddenly be the 'smart and compelling' ones we were promised right back in Season 2? Highly doubtful, unless they've replaced every member of the creative team with the finest Fanfiction has to offer - ****further spoiler alert**** \- they haven't. Do these people seriously believe that we trust them now to do right by Grant Ward when they wasted three years torturing, raping, abusing, brainwashing and finally murdering him, (again and again, in the latter case)? Do they really think that we can be placated and bought, and that horrible victim shaming storyline erased from our memories? We can't. TAHITI isn't real. This crap is not going to fly. Undoubtedly, we're being set up to be knocked right back down again, and we're refusing to be sucked in this time. The best we can realistically hope for here is a couple of aesthetically pleasing Daisy and Ward scenes that can be nicely manipulated into AU Skyeward YouTube videos by the truly talented fans. So, we'll continue to exist happily in our fanfic world, where Ward can be anything and everything he deserved the chance to be, as a character who had suffered immensely from the cradle to the grave. Maybe we'll take whatever scraps they throw the viewership, mould them into something resembling an enjoyable story, and then run with them; we know others are already doing that and we can't wait to read. But, in short, the AOS writing team just keeps finding new ways to irritate the fandom they have already crapped on from a great height. So, in the words of Agent 33, we "will always stand with Ward", but Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. as a show is dead to us unless Grant comes back for good and with a story arc that doesn't make us want to vomit. ****#GrantWardstilldeservedbetter****


	4. Episode 2 Part II

**__**Terror Takes The Sound**__**

 ** _ _ **Before You Make It'**__**

 ** _ _ **Part Two**__**

 ** _ _ **The BUS, 26**__** ** _ _ **th**__** ** _ _ **April 2014**__**

Standing around the table in the briefing area, the members of team BUS wore their expressions of incredulity with varying degrees of openness. Fitz balked, wide eyed and jaw slack, staring at the coroner reports that Skye had managed to upload onto the monitor, whilst at his side Coulson seemed to be struggling to iron out his own bewildered frown. As always, May was the most put together of the bunch, her only slight tell being the fact that she peered at the screen with her head cocked. The three had barely so much as breathed since Ward had delivered his run down of what had occurred on their intelligence gathering mission, and Skye was beginning to grow antsy at his elbow as she waited for their shock to abate enough so that they could begin working out a plan.

"So let me just make sure I've got this straight," Coulson began, holding up one hand in a bid for silence before he pressed on, "we're looking at some kind of alien life form that's scaring its victims to death and then… stealing their adrenal glands through a hole the size of a Tic Tac?"

"That's the top and bottom of it," admonished Ward, shooting a glance at Skye as he noted movement from the corner of his eye. She had begun to fidget with the hem of her shirt; a sure sign that she had reached levels of boredom that she was ill equipped to deal with. He resisted the urge to smile, instead reaching out for her hand and feeling a thrill of pleasure course through him when her fingers wrapped around his.

"Why are we suddenly so sure it's an alien?" demanded Fitz, arching a brow pointedly at Coulson, who only stared at the scientist with fraying patience.

"Because aliens… 084s… is what we do, Agent Fitz," Coulson explained tiredly. Folding his arms across his chest, Fitz stared back at his boss.

"Doesn't mean it's an alien, though. I mean, it could just be some bloke in a costume with a… a pointy… thing…" he mimed jabbing somebody with an imaginary blade.

"That's exactly what it looks like, Fitz," Coulson agreed, clapping him on the back as he walked slowly past the scientist, "except our guy is probably not human. Or not entirely human, anyway. Simmons, any thoughts on the significance of the adrenal glands?"

Ward turned his head and smiled faintly as Skye muttered 'gross' under her breath, yet glimmers of excitement and enthusiasm were still evident upon her face. He knew she couldn't wait to get out into the field and, as her S.O., he conceded that she was ready for such an operation. Although of course as her boyfriend, he'd definitely prefer her to sit out anything that involved a gland stealing, murderous alien.

Simmons nodded, swiping her finger over the I-pad in her hand as she glanced up at the screen and replied absently, "I believe he's scaring them to increase their body's natural production of adrenaline… which he then um… procures from the overstimulated adrenal gland. Residual adrenaline levels in the blood are… well quite frankly, I've never seen anything like it."

"It feeds on fear," May supplied, glancing up at the screen and then swiping through the victims' files and the crime scene photographs.

"Do we have anything linking the victims?" Coulson asked, looking at each of his team in turn. Almost immediately, Skye sprung into life, visibly relishing being the one to impart the news.

"Yep. All three victims bought tickets to the Forks Fright Fest," she supplied helpfully, noting Coulson's slightly confused expression and adding, "it's like this totally lame, annual movie festival the town hosts every year. They rent out the two movie theatres down town and show a bunch of old horror movies and B-movies. Poltergeist, Halloween, Eraserhead… Frankenhooker."

She wrinkled her nose derisively at the last title but opted to let it slide without passing comment.

"Is there some kind of list or database showing us who bought tickets to this thing?" Coulson wondered aloud, his tone almost optimistic as he considered the possibility of narrowing down the size of their figurative haystack.

"Already hacked the payment records," Skye said proudly, her grin broadening. "Tickets are available in advance only so the good news is that I have a pretty comprehensive list of everyone who was there in the last few days. Bad news is that amounts to close to a thousand people."

May frowned, only half listening to Skye and Coulson talk back and forth as she considered possibilities in her own mind, weighing up the likelihood of every small eventuality.

"Could we go out on a limb and say our perpetrator is potentially involved in the behind the scenes running of this… using the word 'festival' here seems like an insult," she muttered, rolling her eyes at the very idea.

"I suppose that could make sense," Fitz agreed, shrugging, "he or she would have access to a list of people that fit perfectly with their M.O. Besides, not like we have any other leads."

"There has to be a better way than this," Skye argued, shaking her head, "it's not like we can interview every single person on that list. We need more to go on than we have right now, which is a pile of corpses with funky little holes drilled in them."

"What about the crime scenes?" Ward asked, finally speaking up. If truth be told, he was feeling particularly out of his comfort zone and so had remained quiet for fear that there was nothing solid he could add to the investigation. His talents and skills lay more in the actual apprehending of suspects once they had been identified.

"Not much to go on from the police reports," replied Jemma, tapping away at her tablet in order to pull up the relevant files as she spoke. "It seems that in each instance, the front door lock had been picked and the entrance left wide open. No DNA found at any of the scenes or on the victims' bodies, despite the fact that the third victim showed signs of having put up a good fight. Defensive wounds, broken fingernails, some facial bruising…"

Planting his hands decisively on his hips, Coulson nodded slowly as a plan of action began to take shape in his mind.

"Alright, Simmons, you and May check out the crime scenes… blood spatter, prints... alien dandruff, whatever you can find. Ward, you and Skye go and check out this movie festival. Under the radar, okay? S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't exactly winning any popularity contests right now. Fitz, I want you to examine the footage from security cameras, satellites… whatever you can get your hands on. See if you can find some footage of our intergalactic psychopath."

"Yes, sir," Simmons nodded, smiling at May as she busied herself with hurrying to the lab to assemble an evidence retrieval kit, "May, I'll just be two ticks!"

"On it!" Fitz bobbed his head, standing up from where he'd been leaning against the console and immediately began to tap away at the computer pad on the desk.

"So… how are we playing this, super spy?" Skye glanced up expectantly at Ward. She noted with some trepidation the thoughtful smile that was slowly blossoming on his face. "Okay, why are you looking at me like that? Ward?"

Shaking his head, Ward only turned on his heel and began to head towards the bunks, leaving Skye a decidedly nervous wreck in his wake.

Following quickly, her eyes saucer wide with alarm, Skye called out, "Ward, come back here. WARD!"

 ** **x-x-x****

"In the words of Kellis, I hate you so much right now," Skye growled, sinking down into the plush red velvet seat and doing her very best to pull the zip-up sweat shirt she wore around her chest. The slogan emblazoned on the shirt that Ward had foisted on her was doing very little to bolster her mood, but apparently quite a lot for his. Grant dropped down in the seat next to Skye looking like the cat that got the canary as he gave her a quick once over with his eyes.

"Don't be ashamed, sweetheart," he teased, admirably maintaining a straight face despite the twinkle in his eye, "a lot of women here are apparently 'team Edward'. Besides, I think you look adorable."

"Yeah, grey really brings out the murder in my eyes," she all but snarled in reply as she plucked at the offending garment as though it physically pained her to wear it. For a while, she hadn't even been able to fathom where Ward had managed to obtain such a shirt at short notice, until she had realised that Simmons was somewhat guiltily refusing to meet her gaze. It appeared that her apparent aversion to all things horror did not extend to sparkly vampires and Kristin Stewart.

"Undercover 101, Skye," Ward whispered, leaning in so close that Skye could smell the fresh scent of mint toothpaste on his breath, "dress the part, look the part, act the part."

Noting the other movie goers with a sour expression, Skye rolled her eyes as she took in the sights of the costumes - vampires, werewolves, pale men in white wigs, an inordinate number of guys with tall, spiky hair, and women wearing wedding dresses they had clearly bought at Goodwill.

She tried to ignore Ward's closeness, realising that he was attempting to blend in with the other loved up, touchy feely, couples who littered the theatre. But really- a Twilight groupie? It was way beyond the bounds of her self-respect.

"If you think I'm gonna sit here in the dark and just like… make out with you until this guy gets here…" she referred to their current suspect, the organiser of the festival, who would be providing a talk on the 'world of the American small town in popular fiction'. Suddenly struck by just how close he actually was, Skye met Grant's gaze and felt her heart begin to hammer in her chest as he smiled softly at her - a genuine, affectionate smile that was all Grant Ward and not the character he was playing for the evening.

"Then you're totally right…" she finished, a little breathless all of a sudden.

Grasping the fabric of Ward's shirt between her fingers, Skye pulled him closer, accidentally jarring the soda cup in the holder at the side of her seat as her lips crashed against his.

"Even if you did make me wear this stupid shirt," she panted, drawing back from their kisses as she felt the weight of a heavy stare upon them.

Turning around, hand still on Ward's neck, she blinked in surprise as a young girl stood glaring at her, a glower on her face and the words 'Team Jacob' emblazoned across her chest.

"He was better for her, you know," the girl practically snapped, one hand drifting to land on her jutted out hip. Her eyes narrowed as she spat, "In every, single way."

Skye paused, desperately searching for some sort of witty comeback that would render the girl speechless, but finding absolute none springing to mind. Unconcernedly, she merely shrugged, and then turned back to Ward, pressing their lips together again.

The girl, feeling slighted by the fact that her attempt at provoking fan warfare had been unsuccessful, heaved a dramatic sigh and tossed her hair over her shoulder before flouncing off to find her seat again.

As the couple drew apart, Skye smirked at Ward, celebrating her small victory.

"So I guess I found a way to scare them off," she chuckled, gently patting Ward's cheek with the palm of her hand before she leaned back in her seat.

Ward laughed, watching as Skye pushed up the arm rest that divided their seats and moved into his side. His arm wrapped around her instantly, and as the lights descended on the theatre he smiled as he felt her sigh in his embrace.

"I guess this could be worse," she admitted quietly, realising that playing back row make-out sessions with her boyfriend was probably not as bad as trawling crime scenes for biological evidence, which is where May and Simmons had found themselves. "Although this movie is gonna blow."

Frowning slightly, Ward spoke into her ear, "I thought Simmons made you watch that movie box set her parents bought her for her birthday?"

Skye rested her head on his shoulder and gazed up at him, still able to make out the chiselled lines of his face even in the near darkness. "Oh, she tried. I told her I had really bad menstrual cramps and went to lie down… for like, the evening. For a girl, she gets really weird about 'lady problems'."

Ward shook his head, holding back a smile as he regarded Skye, who returned her gaze to the screen.

"I guess we could pretend this is a real date," Ward suggested, frowning as he added, "I mean, it's not like anyone really watches the movies on those anyway."

"Real dates get popcorn," Skye whispered back, grinning as she shot a quick glance at Grant, "and sometimes peanut butter cups."

With a roll of his eyes that would put Simmons' best efforts to shame, Ward clambered to his feet wordlessly and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Skye continued to smirk, barely looking away from the screen at all as the credits began to roll and a piece of hopelessly emo Indie rock music started up.

"And a cherry cola," she hissed, awarding him with the briefest of glances before she slumped further in her seat, giving the audience a cursory sweep to ensure that nothing untoward was occurring; at least, nothing beyond bored boyfriends and long suffering husbands surfing Facebook and sending messages on their cell phones.

Grant excused himself as he slipped past several girls, who barely acknowledged him as they half stood to allow him access to the aisle. Eyes constantly roving the packed theatre, Ward made his way towards the exit that would lead him directly to the foyer, where he would be able to sate Skye's desire for snack foods whilst also casually sweeping the perimeter for signs of anything abnormal.

The line at the concessions stand was non existent and so Ward managed to acquire a large popcorn, a packet of peanut butter cups, and a soda with two straws with only the most minimal of waits.

Crossing the lobby of the theatre, he suddenly halted as he saw a familiar face lurking behind an old fashioned 80's arcade game. Standing somewhat conspicuously beside the Pac Man machine was the town coroner. Although this time, her expression was far more pensive and less assured, and when Ward met her gaze she practically shrank back.

Realising she'd been spotted, the blonde meandered over to him, affixing a wide smile on her face as she approached to pretend their meeting was serendipitous.

"Agent… Taylor, right? How nice to see you again. I have to admit, I'd never have imagined you'd be an horror movie buff."

His suspicions firmly arisen, Ward shrugged as best as he could with the plethora of snacks he held in his hands, "Oh… my girlfriend. When she found out I was working a case here she was pretty excited. It's our anniversary soon, so I thought we'd make a weekend of it."

The coroner smiled, noting the popcorn, candies, and soda with a raised eyebrow, "I see. Well, aren't you the romantic?!" Shooting him an oddly suspicious gaze of her own, she added, "I guess she's inside?"

Ward nodded, his phoney smile amused as he supplied, "Couldn't stand to tear herself away from Edward for even a minute. I swear she must have every line of that movie memorised."

"Which one?" the coroner asked, cocking her head with interest as she gazed up at Ward, who froze in place, muscles taut as he realised his own error; actual Undercover 101, don't commit to conversations about things you know precious little about.

His mouth opened and a strange, nervous little sound escaped Ward's throat before he felt a hand close around his elbow.

"All four of them, of course!" Skye trilled from his side, batting her lashes at Ward as he glanced down at her in surprise. "They're all so epic, it's tough to pick my favourite, although I guess maybe 'Breaking Dawn'. Every girl loves a good wedding, right?"

"Skye," Ward observed, frowning as he scrutinised his girlfriend, desperately attempting to gauge the reason for her sudden appearance, "everything okay, sweetheart?"

Removing the soda from his hand so she could duck under his arm and snuggle into his side, she shrugged playfully.

"I just missed you, baby," she said with a girlish flourish, standing on tip toe and pressing a kiss against his lips. Continuing on with her act of 'the most irritating girlfriend in the world', she opened her mouth in mock surprise as she spied the candy packets in his hand, "you got me peanut butter cups and popcorn? You're like the best boyfriend ever. Isn't he the cutest?"

Making a mental note to exact his revenge at a later date, Ward affixed a smile in place and offered the doctor a humble shrug.

"Uh, Skye, this is Dr. McKenzie from the coroner's office… doc, this is my girlfriend, Skye," Ward stated politely, wincing as Skye sucked on her soda, clearly enjoying every moment of her noisy performance.

"Well, it is such a pleasure to meet you. A lady and a doctor! No shit. That's awesome. Especially for like, girl part exams… cos…" sucking in a breath through her back teeth, she added, " _ _awkward!__ Right?! __Right__?! So, what are you doing here? You like horror movies?"

The doctor seemed equally parts horrified and intrigued by Skye, her mouth almost hanging open as she gazed at the other woman, who was staring at her with a slightly manic expectant grin.

"Uhm, yes, big fan actually," Dr. McKenzie finally managed, her smile chagrined as she swept a hand through her hair. "I was just in the other screen. Vampire movies aren't really my thing."

"Oh, sure, sure," Skye enthused, eyes genuinely lighting up this time as she added, " 'Poltergeist'. Such a classic!"

"Um, yeah... definitely," the doctor replied with decidedly less enthusiasm than Skye would have expected from a genuine fan. It hadn't escaped her notice either that Dr. McKenzie's eyes were sweeping the foyer as though she was searching for something of great importance, one hand jammed into the pocket of her jeans and the other gripping her cell phone tight.

Skye managed to thwart the frown fighting for dominance over her friendly smile, leaning further into Ward as she casually indicated the other woman with a toss of her head.

"My favourite part has to be when little Josh gets pulled out his bedroom window by the tree from the front yard. That bit was like, hardcore," she babbled, draping her arm around Ward's waist and pressing into his side. "How about you? Oh! What about that doll house part, huh? Super creepy or what?"

The doctor nodded in agreement, her entire body seemingly on edge, "My… my favourite part."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Skye chuckled, clasping Ward's arm tighter as she cocked her head and regarded the doctor as though she was sorry they had to bring their little chat to an end. "Okay, we gotta go… cos I'm missing all the Twi-goodness in there, but it was so nice to meet you!"

Ward found himself being forcibly dragged away from the vicinity and back towards the screen they had been seated in before he was even fully aware of what had happened.

"Uh… Skye?" he began as they reached the doorway of the auditorium, "what the hell was that?"

"Relax, robot. We're not going back in there," Skye began, peaking around the large cut out of a giant animated dragon as she watched the blonde haired woman keenly.

"We're not?" Ward narrowed his eyes as he realised he was, for once, clearly missing something.

"No. She's not a horror movie fan," scoffed Skye, taking a piece of popcorn from the box in his hands and chewing it with vigour, "there's no dolls house scene in Poltergeist and the little boy is called Robbie, not Josh."

"Skye… not to question your reasoning here," he began carefully, and if his hands were free he'd have held them up in his own defence, "but we're basing your hunch on the fact she lied about seeing a movie?"

"You betcha ass we are," Skye replied with a vigorous nod of her head, "that woman's pants are on fire, Ward. Why lie about a movie? What's the real reason she's here?"

Staring at Skye as though she had gone mad, Grant quickly withdrew the popcorn box from the reach of her questing hand and ignored the scowl she shot at him.

"I think you've had enough sugar," he drawled. Skye shot him a glare that may have been mildly threatening had he not been one of the best Specialists in the history of S.H.I.E.L.D., and Ward arched a brow at her to prompt a more satisfactory explanation.

"Something is off with her, Grant," she explained, lowering her voice and gesturing for Grant to put down the bundle of snacks he still clutched to his chest, "she's obviously not here for the movies, she's completely wigged out by something, super jumpy, and she's our only connection to the stiffs in the morgue."

"You have a point there," Ward allowed, although it seemed somewhat grudgingly. He set down the popcorn and drink on the floor behind a trash can, taking a moment to mourn the loss of his fifteen dollars, before he set off in the wake of Dr. McKenzie. Looking pleased with herself, Skye followed behind, clutching at his back as she attempted to keep pace.

It seemed that the doctor was headed towards a quiet, narrow corridor, at the end of which Ward could discern a door marked with a 'staff only' sign. Frowning, he watched as the doctor peered about her, desperately attempting to ensure she hadn't been followed, before she turned back to the door and began to toy with the lock.

"Okay, I guess you're onto something," admitted Grant, shooting Skye the briefest smile and allowing his pride in her growing abilities as an agent to bleed through his expression.

"Bask in my brilliance later, catch the evil doctor now," insisted Skye, gently but firmly pushing Grant in the direction of the corridor.

They stood one behind the other in the dimly lit hall, Skye behind Grant, who began advancing towards the door the doctor had disappeared through.

His hand slid over the gun concealed in his pocket, and they continued to creep down the hall, before his attention was suddenly captured by the sound of rustling. The kind of rustling he'd been anticipating in the packed movie theatre.

Turning around and staring askance at his girlfriend, he watched as she peeled the paper off of a peanut butter cup before biting into it and then shoving the remaining candy into her mouth until her cheeks were puffed out.

He raised both eyebrows at her questioningly, wondering exactly when and how she had sneaked the chocolates onto her person. Although knowing Skye as well as he now did, he realised there was precious little she wouldn't resort to when chocolate was at stake.

"Seriously?" he whispered, his face a perfect expression of his disbelief - a look of sheer exasperation he'd perfected within hours of meeting the young hacker.

Swallowing hard, although clearly bereft of any remorse, Skye shrugged.

"What?" she whispered back, wiping demurely at the corners of her lips as he glowered down at her.

Tilting her head and shooting him the grin she knew could disarm and appease him in moments, she licked her lips to remove any final traces of candy.

"They're like little pieces of heaven… almost as good as an orgasm."

Ward huffed out a sigh, his eyes peering at a spot somewhere behind her as he felt his jaw set in irritation. "Skye…"

"Hey, I said 'almost'," she grinned flirtatiously, looking up at him with a defiant expression until he eventually just released a further dramatic groan and shook his head in despair.

"Could we just…?" Ward demanded in a hiss, and Skye found herself vigorously nodding.

"Sure… psycho alien killer, on it!" she muttered back, far too brightly for someone on a stake out mission. Rolling his eyes but managing to contain another sigh, Ward spun on his heel and continued to roam the aisles created by the ceiling high shelving units that had been stacked in the store room. Various items including rolled up posters, empty popcorn boxes and economy sized bottles of cleaning fluids lined the shelves, and Ward moved passed them without any real interest.

He cocked his head as he listened to a bizarre squelching sound emanating from behind a stack of brown cardboard boxes in the corner of the room, and it was with his gun extended in front of him that he proceeded forward, making no sound as he moved. Skye stayed put, stopping by the last shelving unit so as not to hamper Ward's progress. He cast only the briefest of glances behind himself to be assured of Skye's safety before he rounded the corner created by the box stack.

"Don't move…" he commanded with authority, although any further words died on his lips as his eyes widened and he took in the sight of the half-woman-half-lobster like creature suddenly standing before him. A blonde wig lay on the floor at the creature's feet, but Ward's eyes were drawn away from that and instead to the thing's face; it was crimson in hue with two deep set, almond shaped black eyes peering out at Ward from above a flat nose that more resembled two slits in its skin. The mouth bore similarities to a beak, the tip of which was sharp and pointed, perhaps even deadly. Ward swallowed down fear and revulsion in equal measures as he realised that, in one elongated red hand, the thing that had once been Dr. McKenzie clutched a piece of material, greying and sticky looking, that could only have come from some sort of internal organ.

It appeared that Ward had disturbed her - it- in the middle of a meal, as it's beak was in the process of parting and from within it snaked two, long and thin appendages that were weaving their way through the air towards the food source. However, he could see no body in the immediate vicinity, just a discarded and opened plastic container alongside the wig.

"What the fu…" Ward began, only to be interrupted by the sound of blood curdling screaming from out in the foyer.

Hearing his uncharacteristically colourful outburst, Skye appeared at his elbow almost immediately, jarring the Specialist as she skidded to a halt. Mouth dropping open and her eyes first widening and then narrowing in shock and disgust, she recoiled with a babbled "Holy shit!" on her lips.

Dropping the organ onto the floor, the doctor took a moment to regroup - quite literally back into the human form that Ward had previously encountered. Sweeping up her wig, she wiped the back of her hand across her blood smeared lips, visibly trembling at the presence of her audience.

"Please!" she held up her hands, desperation alive in her once again blue eyes as she continued, "please, it's not what you think…"

Ward arched an eyebrow, keeping his gun trained on her. He stepped in front of Skye, feeling her fingertips ghost his side, although she appeared all too happy to take a step back.

"Honestly, I don't know what to think right now. So why don't you enlighten us?"

Another blood curdling scream demanded their attention, this time accompanied by the kind of hysterical shrieking and general sounds of pandemonium that alerted Ward to the fact it was not just a lobby full of over-excited movie fans.

The doctor looked towards the door fearfully, her expression falling as she sighed, "Oh, Jesse… not again. I've tried to reason with him, I have! He doesn't need to kill to feed any more, I… I've taken care of that…"

Putting two and two together in regards to the creature's facade as a medical examiner, and her apparent propensity for eating unidentified pieces of her deceased patients, Skye felt her stomach roll violently.

"Gross. I think I just threw up in my mouth."

Making a snap decision, Ward gestured with the nose of his gun to the lobby, never once taking his eyes off the now humanoid form of the doctor.

"Nice and slow, we're going out there," Ward stated, tone completely calm once again and expression even. "Then you're coming with us to answer our questions."

Dr. McKenzie only nodded, holding up both hands in a gesture of placation that simultaneously allowed Ward to see how she had begun to tremble.

"I swear, I don't want any trouble," she assured him, watching as he placed the gun into the back of his waistband and allowed his leather jacket to obscure it from view. He took a step towards the doctor, who remained perfectly still and compliant as he gripped her shoulder in a manner that would appear outwardly friendly and yet in reality allow him control of her core should the need arise.

"Skye, go ahead and see what's happening," Ward said quietly, offering Skye an encouraging smile to spur her on from where she stood, frozen and still staring at Dr. McKenzie. "The good doctor and I will stay on the sidelines."

Nodding her head dumbly, Skye took off into the corridor, Ward and his prisoner following behind. She had barely reached the concession stand when the cause of the drama became apparent; a tall, gangly limbed teenage boy stumbling around the lobby, clutching his bleeding side and looking frighteningly pale.

"Coming… it's coming…" he yelled, arms flailing as he attempted to fend off well meaning onlookers that approached him. His eyes were wide and wild, and he lurched from one foot to the other, indicating that sooner or later he would be making an unceremonious descent to the ground when either blood loss or shock claimed his consciousness.

Dropping down on her knees beside him, Skye stared wide-eyed at the stab wounds in the man's torso. Swallowing down the bile she felt rising up in her throat, she pressed her hand against the bigger wound, pushing her other hand down on top to try to stem the bleeding. The ooze of warm, wetness beneath her palms made her stomach lurch, and the warm air carried the iron stench of blood to her nostrils as a pool began to form beneath the young boy.

"He's coming…" he whispered, eyes communicating the terror that his failing voice could not.

"Who? Who's coming?" Skye asked, wondering if her expression conveyed the same amount of fear as the man seemingly dying before her.

Glancing back to where a group of bystanders stood by the concessions stand, she yelled desperately, "Someone call 911!"

A sickening gurgle rose up from the man's chest, and bubbles of blood began to spill from his lips. With a wheeze and a lurch to grab Skye's wrist, he managed a final sentence, although the words were almost garbled by the volume of blood that filled his mouth.

"Jason… Jason Voorhees."

Skye blinked rapidly in surprise, words failing her as the man took a breath that made his whole body shudder before falling still and prone. Frozen in shock and horror, blood drenching her clothes and hands, Skye fell back onto the carpet of the foyer on her knees.

"CPR… We should start CPR, right?" the boy who had been manning the concession stand demanded as he stumbled over to Skye. She could only shake her head, too unnerved to offer much as response. From what Ward and Simmons had said, and what she herself had been able to glean from the files she had read, the previous victims had died of heart attacks, instead of being hacked to death in a public place the way the man lying dead across her lap had been; something had made their killer change his M.O., and Skye didn't even want to begin contemplating what.

Eventually, she managed to choke out, "He's dead."

Seeming to suddenly realise that she was being weighed down by a corpse, Skye none too gently pushed the body of the young man off her before scooting backwards. She raised her own hands to eye level, noting the blood staining her skin and barely managing to prevent herself from vomiting then and there. The tears sprang to her eyes quickly and she tried to drag in a breath that stuck in her throat.

A hand landing suddenly on her shoulder had her letting out a small yelp as she wheeled around to stare up at whoever was attempting to offer her comfort. She found herself staring up into the face of an older woman, who was wearing an expression of calm impressively over the underlying horror Skye could see within her eyes. Her mouth seemed to be moving but Skye realised that she couldn't hear the words being spoken to her, although she was nodding along to whatever the woman was saying.

"Skye!"

She tried desperately to climb to her feet, but her boots slid in the blood ebbing out across the floor. Strong arms lifted her from the ground, and she stood on shaking legs, feeling as if her knees had somehow been numbed and she had little control of the rest of her limbs.

The voices and screams of the patrons began to merge together, and her head swam as if she were submerged under water. Lifting her hands up again to examine them, her heart pounded in her chest as she found the victim's blood staining not only her skin but also the cuffs of her plaid shirt.

From somewhere in the distance she recognised the sound of sirens, and then she found herself glancing uncertainly around the theatre foyer until a hand landed on her cheek in the most gentle manner. She hurriedly sought out a pair of familiar eyes that could never fail to ground her.

Bending his head, Ward locked their gazes. The doctor stood wide-eyed behind him, taking in the scene with as much horror as any other patron.

"Skye? Look at me…" Grant commanded, opting to forgo any of his S.H.I.E.L.D. approved training for such situations as he pulled his trembling girlfriend into his arms.

"It's okay. I've got you," he whispered into her ear, holding her close against his chest as he watched a small team of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents swarm into the lobby.

"I… I'll get blood on you," Skye stammered, still reeling from the events of the last few minutes.

"Take her into custody," Ward barked out to a passing agent, gesturing to the doctor, who held up both hands to demonstrate her willingness to come quietly. Returning his attention to Skye, Ward began to steer her towards the revolving door, helping her out of her stained shirt as they walked.

"He died…" Skye murmured, still shaking her head as though she didn't quiet comprehend what had occurred right before her eyes.

"Let's get you back to the BUS and cleaned up," Ward soothed her, using the balled up shirt to wipe away as much blood as possible from her hands. Skye found they had reached their SUV with her barely noting that they had even entered the parking lot, which was swarming with a combination of a handful of unmarked S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles and police cars. Given S.H.I.E.L.D.'s status as a terrorist organisation following the emergence of Hydra, the agents would need to work quickly on the scene, bagging their evidence and their sole suspect then leaving without a trace before the police could gather their wits enough to note their rival's presence.

Ward opened the door of the vehicle for Skye, ushering her inside before running round to the driver's side door, eager to flee the crime scene himself.

Skye wasn't sure how long it took to get back to the BUS, but before she could harness her thoughts on the subject or try to make sense of events, Ward had led her up to the living quarters and helped her into the shower.

She'd stood watching the red stains from her fingers and palms swirl down the drain at her feet, the heat of the shower managing to both soothe and dull her senses. She'd dressed herself in the pyjamas Ward had placed on the bathroom counter, a faint smile tugging at her lips when she found him in her bunk with the bed covers pulled back and two steaming mugs of cocoa on the window ledge beside him.

"So… Date night sucked," she said lamely, tucking herself under the duvet at his side and resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple, where his lips rested for several seconds.

"Skye, I'm sorry. I didn't know…" he began, cursing himself for directing Skye to investigate the commotion in the foyer in the first place. She was new to being a field agent and still had a lot to learn, and Grant knew that the soft and kind-hearted part of her nature would never allow her to get used to witnessing the evils he had somehow grown accustomed to.

"It wasn't your fault," Skye assured him, taking a sip of her cocoa and then consenting to a small smile as she realised that he had even gone to the trouble of placing miniature marshmallows in her cup.

"Sometimes I forget how new you are to this and…" Ward began to explain, shaking his head as though to demonstrate how disappointed he was in his own decision making process. However, not content to allow him to continue, Skye interjected.

"Ward, this is what I signed up for and… I have to get used to this," she said, squaring her shoulders and doing her best to affix a confident expression in place, although there was nothing she wanted more than to hide under her covers and pretend the last twenty-four hours had been just a bad dream.

"I can't expect special treatment," she continued, "if I want to be a field agent, I…"

"Skye, baby," Grant said, resting the back of his hand against her cheek, his eyes sweeping her face in earnest, "it's okay to be shaken by what you saw today. You're not a Specialist. That's not all that S.H.I.E.L.D. is about. FitzSimmons are some of the best we have but they're not combat cleared and they don't go wading out into the thick of things to prove a point."

"I want to do this, Grant," she nodded certainly, placing her mug down on the night-stand built into the wall beside her bed. "I've never been more sure of anything… _aside from you_."

"As your S.O., you know I'm here to support you, to push you when you need it, to challenge you… but," Grant shook his head, his lips hovering over hers as he searched her eyes, "me… Grant Ward? I just want to keep you safe."

"There are bad things out there. You can't shut the world out for me," she reassured him, caressing his jaw and brushing her thumb over his lips even as she thought about the last few months and, specifically, Ian Quinn. "But I love you for wanting to try. I'll be okay. I just… I was unprepared, you know? The last few victims… that… that wasn't…"

Her eyes teared up, and Ward pulled her instinctively into his chest. "May and Coulson are questioning the doctor… or whatever the hell she is… if anybody can make her talk, it's May."

"I figured you'd want to do that… I mean, you brought her in…" Skye frowned, knowing how methodical and dedicated Ward could be. Sitting back and drinking cocoa whilst a suspect - and a highly unusual one at that - was being detained and questioned just feet away was unusual for the Specialist, who generally preferred a more 'hands on' approach.

"I told Coulson I was taking the night off," he explained, wrapping her in his arms and beginning to comb his fingers through the ends of her hair.

"You don't have to do that for me," Skye replied, almost defensive as she drew away from Ward, her eyes sweeping his features, "I'm okay. I'm fine."

Although he remained dubious, Ward sucked in a breath and nodded his head, understanding exactly why Skye didn't want to make this into an issue; she had always, ever since joining the team, feared being considered weak, and the situation with Quinn had only compounded that further.

"Alright, tomorrow morning, we're back on the case," Grant agreed, although most definitely against his better judgement. As Skye's brow furrowed and she glared at him, a protest poised on her tongue, Ward ensured the look he wore upon his face grew more firm and unyielding.

"Tomorrow. Don't argue with your SO," he repeated, the way he cocked his head daring Skye to argue with him. Of course she evidently wanted to, but instead she managed to proverbially bite her tongue and swallow down her irritation. After all, it was imperative that she get used to taking orders from all quarters, not just Coulson.

Rolling her eyes and letting her head lean on his shoulder, she buried her mutinous tendencies. "Fine. But tomorrow, we get back to work, okay?"

"Whatever you say, rookie," he assuaged her, shuffling slightly further down the bed until they both reclined against the pillows, Skye draped over his side where she fit into his arms as though she was a missing piece of him.

A lazy smile blossomed on her face as she felt him press a kiss to her cheek, and when he trailed a lower path with his lips, she inclined her head to allow his mouth to meet hers.

He kissed her tentatively before she turned and captured his cheek in her palm. From there, their kisses grew more demanding until she lost herself in the moment, which had been his intent all along.

Skye resolved not to tell Grant of the memories that plagued her once again; of Ian Quinn and the pop of gunshots, or the warm, bright red blood that clung to her skin as her life ebbed steadily from her body. How cold that cellar floor had been; as cold as the grave, in fact.

Ward, of course, would never tell her that he was now haunted by the very same images.


	5. Chapter 5

**__**Terror Takes The Sound**__**

 ** _ _ **Before You Make It'**__**

 ** _ _ **Part Three**__**

 ** _ _ **The BUS, 27**__** ** _ _ **th**__** ** _ _ **April 2014**__**

Generally speaking, official team meetings were not usually held over the breakfast table. However, the circumstances in the case were extenuating to say the least, and so Coulson was willing to make allowances for his agents' enthusiasm to share the details they had recently unearthed in their separate investigations.

As he poured a second cup of coffee and slid it across the table to May, Coulson found his attention drifting to Simmons, who was practically bouncing in her chair with palpable excitement.

"So we searched the crime scene," she stated, her eyes gleaming as she peered around the table at the faces of her team, "and right there, embedded in the sofa cushions, was a proboscis!"

"A robo-what-sis?" Skye repeated, her eyes widening for very different reasons as she stared back at Jemma and, not for the first time, attempted to fathom exactly how one mind could hold so much varied and occasionally useless knowledge.

"A proboscis," Ward supplied, "it's basically like a straw in an insect's mouth. They use it to suck blood or other fluid from their prey, kind of like a hypodermic."

Simmons and Fitz simultaneously blinked in surprise, shooting Grant looks of astonishment. Ward barely managed to rein in his satisfaction, hiding his smirk behind his spoon as he continued to eat his muesli as though the entire conversation happening around him was of very little consequence at all.

"How did you…" Fitz stammered, obviously perplexed at the sudden reversal of roles. Grant Ward was no idiot but neither was he a scientist, and FitzSimmons prided themselves on being the resident fonts of knowledge when it came to their cases.

"Sometimes I know stuff," he replied, his smile finally betraying him as he added, "and my gramsy was an amateur entomologist. She taught me a few things when I used to stay with her as a kid."

Fitz put down the stylus for his I-pad, and regarded Ward as if suddenly about to impart some great knowledge. Ward barely blinked, chewing and swallowing a mouthful of his breakfast as Fitz began in obvious exasperation.

"I thought we'd all gotten our roles sorted out here?!" he sighed in exasperation. "Okay, listen… Combat, jumping out of planes, hanging off buildings, defusing bombs, speaking a billion languages, charming the pants off of shallow, impressionable women… that's all you, super spy. But the science bit? That's us!"

Fitz gestured between him and Jemma, who nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

"It's just how it is," Simmons confirmed, a note of apology in her tone, "you're the muscle, Fitz and I are the brains, Skye is… good with computery things…"

Affronted, Skye held up her hand in protest. Her grimace demonstrated her displeasure amply.

"Computery things? Hey, just because I'm a high school drop out doesn't mean I'm not smart, okay? I know… stuff," she pouted, glancing up at Ward as he placed his hand over hers and shot FitzSimmons a warning glance.

"Of course you do," Simmons smiled kindly, although Skye still found herself somewhat irked and feeling just a little as though she was being patronised.

"A piece of paper doesn't make you smart… so… what else?" Ward gestured with his hand for them to speed up the process, glancing to his side at Skye, who pressed against him, bottom lip sticking out in a petulant display of her irritation.

"Well, other than the fact he died with at least a fortnight's worth of laundry spread out across his sitting room…" Jemma began, her tone obviously disapproving.

"I wasn't asking about his housekeeping, Jemma," Ward chided.

"No, of course not," agreed Simmons, her small chuckle reflecting her embarrassment. "We didn't find anything else of note. Just this."

Coulson nodded, poised to offer his opinion when Jemma once again spoke, interrupting his prepared monologue before it had even begun.

"However, once I have the lab reports from that little beauty back, I should be able to run the DNA through the S.H.I.E.L.D. species database. If it's something we've seen before, we'll know by the end of the day."

"And a positive ID means a way to put this thing down," Coulson interjected, patting Jemma gently on the back as he added, "good work, FitzSimmons."

Ward frowned, shaking his head as he inquired, "Wait, if we have the doctor or… whatever the hell she is… in custody, why is all that necessary?"

"She's pleading the Fifth," May replied, popping a blueberry into her mouth as she cocked her head in Coulson's direction, "I'm not allowed to play."

Ward had to bite back a smile at the look of annoyance and abject disappointment on May's face. He stared down into his coffee before he took a sip, only glancing up sharply at the sound of Coulson's voice.

"Ward, maybe you could talk to her? Use a more softly, softly approach. Be… friendly. Persuasive…" Coulson arched an eyebrow at his younger Specialist expectantly. "You know her, she might be more inclined to talk to you."

"Sure, I'll take a shot at her," said Ward with a shrug. His thumb absently brushed circles over Skye's thigh as he sat with his hand curled around her leg. Before he could think further on his actions, he found himself leaning closer and pressing an affectionate kiss to her temple.

"Oh, that reminds me…" Fitz clicked his fingers together as though he had just recalled something particularly important as he added, "the earplug kitty is running low on funds."

Coulson frowned in confusion, swallowing his mouthful of bagel as he shot a curious glance around his team. Skye made a show of rolling her eyes, although her apparent irritation was outshone by the bright red blush that bloomed on her cheeks.

Noting their boss' confused expression, Fitz took it upon himself to offer explanation - although with a hint of embarrassment and a light pink blush colouring his own cheeks. "Oh, my bunk is… you know… adjacent, that is to say… next to… uh… you know… Skye's, and… well… there's certain… noise… uh… noise pollution."

Closing his eyes momentarily, Coulson shook his head as he stated firmly but in a rush, "I don't want to know. I don't need to know, therefore I don't want to know."

Fitz's curt nod seemed to convey that it was a wise move on Coulson's part, and he returned his gaze to his own empty plate when he felt Ward's eyes tick to him. Having the man you had come to regard as your surrogate father privy to your sexual exploits had to be an uncomfortable situation even for one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top Specialists.

"Right, Simmons, continue with your tests and… science… stuff…" Coulson said, his smile apologetic as he peered at the young woman first then turned to regard Ward, "and Grant, see if you can't manage to interrogate our doctor successfully. We need a positive species ID one way or the other, and preferably an idea on how to track down our killer, provided it turns out not to be the young lady in custody."

 ** **x-x-x****

The silence was deafening, and for the last seven minutes and thirty two seconds - (Ward had been counting in his head) - the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and the detainee had sat in an interrogation stand-off.

"If you talk to me, I can help you. __We__ can help your nephew," Ward assured her, leaning back in his chair and trying to adopt his least predatory or unsettling pose.

The woman guffawed, staring at a scratch in the shiny metal surface of the table as she rested on her folded arms and cast a scathing look in Ward's direction.

"Help us? Lock us up and have your science team dissect us, you mean?!"

Ward shook his head firmly, holding up his hands to convey his point, "That's not S.H.I.E.L.D. That's not what we do. We're the good guys. We just want to make sure nobody else gets hurt here, that's all. Nobody else has to die."

Sitting back to regard him for a moment, Dr. McKenzie shook her head disdainfully. "And why should I trust you, huh? You pose as a federal agent, you get some rookie colleague to play the crazy girlfriend to psych me out…"

Ward smiled briefly, hoping that what Skye referred to as 'caring and sharing' might endear him to the prisoner he very much needed to start talking.

"She actually i _ _s__ my crazy girlfriend… and… all we're trying to do here is make sure no more innocent people get hurt. I know that's what you want too or you wouldn't have been at that movie theatre last night."

"You don't know anything about me," Dr. McKenzie spat, her eyes flashing dangerously as she regarded Ward, who was forced to nod his head in agreement with her appraisal.

"You're right," he conceded, frowning as he continued, "right now, we don't know anything about you. Not your real name, your date of birth… even your species…"

The woman seemed to bristle at that, clearly irritated by Ward's blunt phrasing.

"Yeah, well, I'm having a tough time figuring yours out too," the woman shot back, and Ward actually chuckled in response, which seemed to surprise her momentarily.

"I think that crazy girlfriend of mine would like you," Grant said, shaking his head before he made a snap decision and leaned towards the prisoner, producing the key to the handcuffs she sported from his back pocket and hastily releasing them. She let out a hiss of surprise as the cuffs sprang open but she quickly recoiled from the edge of the table and massaged her wrists.

"Aren't you scared I'm going to suck out your internal organs or something?" she asked, peering sourly at Ward from across the table. "I know you all think I'm a monster. That I'd be better off dead, where I can't hurt anyone. It's the way people like you look at anyone different."

The Coroner sat in silence for an unnaturally long amount of time, making Ward decidedly uncomfortable, but just as he was about to stand up, (resigned to his interrogation being a failure), she began to speak.

"Muuto Wraiths."

Narrowing his eyes, Grant peered at her in questioning, unfamiliar with the foreign term.

Sighing heavily, Dr. McKenzie leant back in her seat, arms folded against her chest in a defensive manner that suggested she wasn't at all at ease.

"It's what we are. A distant relative of the Dire Wraiths, but… we're not murderous, evil psychopaths. My people came here almost two centuries ago. Civil war had reduced our planet to nothing but ash and rubble. Those of us left decided we had to leave and to make a new life for ourselves. So they came here. As a species we've lived in obscurity ever since, integrating into society, working, paying taxes, being good, upstanding citizens… patriots. You think I became a doctor to get a ready supply of snack food?"

Ward went to open his mouth to speak but was cut off as she shook her head bitterly and added, "I became a doctor to help people… all people, and I love what I do, Agent Ward. It's all I've ever wanted to be. But when I was 26, my brother and his wife were killed in an auto accident. Jesse was the only survivor. He was only nine at the time, and so… so angry… I guess even broken. I've done the best I can with him, you have to believe me… He's not a cold blooded killer, he's… he's sick."

Ward frowned, leaning across the table in order to peer into the woman's eyes, which sparkled with unshed tears in the dim light.

"Sick how?" he inquired with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was no doctor but given the peculiarities between the murder cases, he had a fairly good idea of what Dr. McKenzie was about to say.

She sniffled, swiping at her nose with a fist as she visibly struggled to pull herself together.

"Psychologically," she finally replied, shaking her head as she added, "it's not my speciality and it's not like I can take him to see someone when I'm concerned he could say the wrong thing. I've done the best I can and… I am truly sorry for what happened to those kids."

Grant nodded, certainly convinced that the doctor's remorse was sincere, although he couldn't help but feel frustrated at her refusal to ask for help with her predicament.

"So to survive, your species needs to…" Ward trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to finish his query.

"Like humans, we're omnivores, Agent Ward. Although we require more protein in our diet than your species, we are a peaceful people. We've learned to adapt, to eat animal produce, meat substitutes…" running a hand through her hair, she lifted her eyes to meet his somewhat reluctantly, "Muuto Wraiths have the power to change our cellular make up, to… to shapeshift. But to do that, we require adrenaline. Most of us remain in the image we chose to adopt at puberty, so a monthly dose of epineprhine allows us to function normally. One shot with an epi-pen is all we need to live… but Jesse…"

Ward nodded, suddenly understanding her explanation. "He needs extra adrenaline to change his appearance."

The doctor nodded, "He became obsessed with science fiction and horror movies as a teenager. I… I thought it was harmless, but…"

Sitting forward, Ward levelled an expectant gaze on the woman that usually guaranteed compliance from the suspects unlucky enough to meet him over the other side of the interrogation table.

"Where would he go? You know him better than anyone. Where's he hiding out?"

Raking a hand through her hair, the doctor shook her head, the despair in her eyes only highlighted by the grimace twisting her lips.

"I lost track of him last night. I tried calling his cell at least fifty times but it goes straight to voice mail. I thought it was a pretty safe bet that he'd turn up at the Fright Fest," she stated, puffing out a sigh that indicated bone deep weariness. Ward couldn't really blame her. It appeared that the lot she had been dealt in life wasn't exactly an enviable one, and he felt a pang of sympathy for the woman assail him. Reaching across the table, he rested a hand on her arm.

"We can help you to take care of him," he offered, his expression growing more earnest as he continued, "Give us something to work with."

Dr. McKenzie shook her head, pressing her palm to her forehead as though she was in physical pain, which Ward figured wouldn't have been a surprise given the day the woman had had so far.

"I really don't know. He's so unpredictable right now," she said, her voice indicating her desperation, "he can't control his primal desires, Agent Ward, that's his only motivation."

Ward nodded, about to stand up from his chair when the doctor reached out impulsively and placed her hand on top of his.

"When you find him… What… What are you going to do to him?"

"We'll do everything we can to help him… to help both of you," he assured her, watching as she retracted her hand and shot him a tearful smile, wiping at her eyes with shaking fingers.

"You won't… You won't kill him?" She blinked quickly, fresh tears cascading down her cheeks. Her stare was so intent that he averted his own gaze out of discomfort.

Rising to his feet, Ward licked his lips uncertainly, "Not if we can help it. That's not what we do. That's not who S.H.I.E.L.D. are. We're the good guys. You have my word that we'll do everything we can to bring him in alive."

The doctor swallowed hard, sniffling miserably before she pressed, "And your word, Agent Ward, what's that worth?"

Debating her question for only a moment, the Specialist's jaw set as he replied without missing a beat, "Everything."

Offering the woman a departing smile that he hoped was even vaguely reassuring, Grant ducked out into the hallway and closed the interrogation room door behind him. Skye was waiting for him, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed and a thoughtful expression spread across her face. She visibly brightened when Ward came into view, a smile finding its way to her lips and her hand automatically extending to capture his.

"How'd it go in there?" she asked, wrinkling her nose as she added hastily, "unless that's above my current pay grade of… wait, do I even get paid? Well… I guess nobody's getting paid now S.H.I.E.L.D.'s in a big old mess…"

Ward blinked, frowning at the sudden switch of topics, which was one aspect of Skye's nature that never failed to leave him feeling like he was suffering from a bad case of whiplash.

"Oh, sorry, I digress, right?" Skye stated, apparently chiding herself on Ward's behalf. He only grinned and shook his head before tightening his grip on her hand and tugging her down the corridor.

"It went about as well as could be expected," said Grant, his hand resting on the base of Skye's back as he guided her down the winding staircase to the cargo hold, "she didn't completely shut me out but I'm not sure she trusts me much either."

"Does she know where the murderer is?" interjected Skye, a slightly anxious undertone creeping into her voice. Grant paused, stopping at the bottom of the staircase they had just descended in order to sweep his gaze across Skye's face. Her features were drawn into a blank mask, but Ward could easily detect the slight fear in her eyes, mingled with an air of sorrow; of course she must still be reeling somewhat from watching the latest victim die in her arms, and nobody could fault her for that. It was a sight that, no matter how many years you served in the field, Grant was fairly certain one would never get used to.

"Not yet," he shook his head, reaching out and caressing her cheek as he cupped her face in his hand, "but we will."

Skye sank into his touch and placed her hand over his whilst his thumb brushed her cheekbone.

"Hopefully before he goes all stabby-stabby on the next guy."

"We'll find him," Ward repeated, using their position on the stairs to his advantage - Skye stood behind him, at the perfect level for him to brush his lips against hers without having to bend his neck or lift her up.

Skye kissed him back, grateful for the few minutes of solitude, in which she could allow his always comforting presence to wash over her. Ever since the incident at the movie theatre the night before, Skye had found herself uncharacteristically jumpy and - although she was loathed to admit it - needy. If Ward had noticed, he hadn't mentioned it to her, but given how attentive he had been to her that morning, she assumed he wasn't oblivious to the shift in her demeanour.

"Oh, and… crazy girlfriend?" she demanded as she cocked her head, staring up at his amused smirk. He offered her a brief shrug of apology before his fingers slid across her jaw and towards the back of her neck. In no time at all, he was kissing her soundly again and her irritation melted away into nothing.

A brief murmur drifted from Skye's body and she clung tightly to him, both arms looped around his waist.

Drawing back, he brushed a kiss against the tip of her nose. "I like that word."

" _ _Crazy__?" she deadpanned, frowning as he let out a puff of laughter.

"Girlfriend," he replied as he drew her into an embrace and smiled when he felt her lean her head on his shoulder, virtually melting into his arms.

"Me too," she murmured, breathing in deep and relishing the familiar scent that filled her nostrils, "it's the first time it's really meant anything to me."

Ward tightened his grip around her, puffing out a sigh across the crown of her head as he contemplated, not for the first time, the life that Skye had lead before they had found her. He could identify with much of it; the loneliness, the feelings of not belonging, witnessing violence and anger at such a tender age that it left a lasting imprint on the mind. Had Coulson not been the one to find him, to pluck him out of juvie when he was at his lowest ebb, Grant wasn't completely sure what might have become of him. Nothing good, definitely. Perhaps he would have ended up like Garrett - cold, cynical, selfish, and a cold blooded murderer. Ward almost shuddered contemplating it all, but instead he just tucked Skye closer into his chest and dropped a kiss onto her forehead.

"We should see how things are going in the lab, I guess," Skye said, reluctance obvious in her tone as she gently pulled away from Grant's embrace.

Ward's features lit up into a grin that could only be described as smug, and Skye cocked her head in questioning.

"I may be able to help some," he said, and strode towards the lab with such a cocky spring to his step that Skye could only chuckle and shake her head as she stared after him.

Nauseatingly love-struck smile in place, Skye strolled in the direction of the lab at an almost languid pace. By the time she finally joined them, Ward and FitzSimmons were already engaged in an animated discussion - so much so that none of them appeared to notice her as she slipped through the automatic doors.

"Are we absolutely, one hundred percent sure she said _Muuto_ Wraith?" Simmons checked for perhaps the fifth time in the last few minutes.

Patience wearing thin, Ward nodded resolutely, "That's what she said."

"And you're certain… I mean, you couldn't have misheard her?" the scientist narrowed her eyes, as if coaching a child to answer her correctly.

Arching a dark eyebrow in her direction, Ward remained silent, yet the set of his jaw and the irritated expression painting his features seemed to silence Jemma better than any retort. He cast a glance to his side as Skye arrived next to him, but his gaze returned quickly to the biochemist, hoping to speed along this second interrogation which was proving somewhat more annoying than the first.

"Fine," she threw up her hands in exasperation, looking forlornly over at her lab partner, who also appeared defeated, "it's just… there's no record of that species in any of the S.H.I.E.L.D. databases, or in any literature searches for that matter."

Leaning back against a lab bench, Skye cleared her throat to capture their attention, "Well, she did say they came here and blended in. Maybe they blended in so well that nobody noticed? Like… maybe they're the intergalactic hide and seek champions?"

"I find that highly unlikely, Skye. That… that some alien could just… just live amongst us and we'd never so much as suspect that they were…" noting Skye's raised hand, Simmons paused in her tirade.

"084, right here!" Skye stated pointedly, her smile almost triumphant as she awaited the Brit's retort.

"Yeah, but you're __fairly__ normal… it's not like you're putting on a whole new bloody face and… and sucking things out of people is it?!" Fitz countered.

Choosing to ignore his use of the word 'fairly' in his summation, Skye instead chose to focus on the latter part of his sentence. She nudged Ward playfully with a wholly suggestive and scandalous smirk on her face that left his cheeks glowing as red as her flannel shirt. Clearing his throat and biting back a smile of his own, Grant nudged her back, and so the two stood quietly cajoling each other until Simmons released a pained groan that indicated they'd been caught.

"I have absolutely no problem setting the fire hose on you two," she said indignantly, a snooty expression in place as she moved her gaze between the pair until she felt satisfied that they were behaving.

"So… Muuto Wraiths… We need you and Fitz to come up with whatever you can about this species. Physiology, history… anything available," Ward directed, "you've got an hour until Coulson gets back and he'll be expecting an update."

"Um, just a mo…" Fitz began, holding up his hand, "who bloody well left you in charge?"

"Coulson," Ward replied smoothly, folding his arms across his chest to indicate that this conversation was coming to a swift conclusion.

Fitz puffed out his cheeks and set to work at the nearest computer screen, mumbling under his breath as his fingers danced over the keys. " _ _Teacher's pet.__ "

Choosing to ignore the remark, which actually brought a stab of pride to his chest, Ward turned to Simmons again.

"I promised the kid's aunt that we'd try to resolve this keeping violence to a minimum," he said, frowning as he stared down at an Icer that was laying on a nearby table, "but let's assume that Icers aren't going to be an option here given the drastically difference in physiology. I need you to find our best method of... eliminating the threat... just, in case."

Brows furrowing, Simmons nodded her head.

"Understood," she murmured, her gaze sweeping the various bottles and beakers that lined the shelves around the lab as she added quietly to herself, "perhaps some kind of biological toxin or…"

"Good, let's go with that," Ward said with grim determination, "we have to assume they're fairly similar as a special to the Dire Wraiths, and S.H.I.E.L.D. have plenty of information about those to work from."

Skye remained quiet, perched on a lab stool as she watched the back and forth between her boyfriend and her best friend with a somewhat troubled expression flickering across her features. With the information Ward had filled her in with, she couldn't help but feel sympathetic towards Dr. McKenzie and her nephew, who it seemed required some form of help that his aunt was powerless to secure for him. The case wasn't quite so cut and dry as Skye had first assumed it to be, and she was left feeling uncomfortable with the sudden realisation that the kid didn't deserve to die after all. He was as much a victim of circumstance and misfortune as he was a perpetrator.

Finally, she spoke up, her tone almost questioning as she pressed, "If there's another way…"

"Then we'll find it," Fitz assured her immediately, his kindly smile bringing light to his eyes, "there's been enough bloodshed for one week."

Noting Skye's troubled demeanour, Ward moved to stand in front of her and placed his hands lightly on her hips.

"I gave my word to his aunt that we'd bring him in unharmed, and that's still Plan A, okay? But… we need to be ready, Skye. I can't risk another civilian getting hurt. It's just a back-up plan, but given his abilities, we have to be prepared."

Smiling tightly, Skye ground out, "Plan B. Gotcha."

She knew Ward placed great value on keeping promises, and he was certainly loathed to break them or feel as though he had let anybody down. Grant was a man of his word, and he prided himself on his loyalty and reliability. However, Skye knew that no matter how much he might want to keep his promise to the terrified aunt, making sure Jesse didn't hurt an innocent would always have to take precedent.

It was one of the things she'd found slightly difficult to accept about her S.O. on first meeting him; it was only as she'd grown to know and love him that Skye realised, for the first time in her life, he was somebody who could always be depended upon. For an orphan who had never been able to trust, and had spent their life coasting from place to place, from family to family, seemingly trapped in a perpetual state of being unwanted, it was a heady realisation.

Ducking his head until he'd secured her gaze, Ward peered down at her. He waited for her to consent to smile before blindly gathering her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. "Now, if you're feeling up to it, I could really use your help with something?"

Almost instantly a much more genuine and brilliant smile illuminated her face, and - delighted at feeling useful to the team and the organisation she had pledged her loyalty to - Skye nodded enthusiastically.

"Whatever you need, Robot,"

"Dr. McKenzie said she tried calling Jesse's cell, which means that like any normal kid, he's probably got it glued to his damn right hand. Now, I'm no computer hacking genius," he took a moment to flash Skye a complimentary smile before he continued, "but GPS tracking is a thing, right?"

Skye's eyes lit up and she nodded her head vigorously, already snatching a tablet from the desk and beginning to unlock the screen.

"Absolutely, but if he turned off his phone or pulled the battery then the best I can do is the location he was at when he decided to go dark," she relayed, biting thoughtfully on her bottom lip as she continued to work. "I can track him with the Triangulation Tower method, it's pretty simple really. I just need his cell number and I can locate the nearest cell tower. Then all I have to do is look at the triangulation of signal strength to the next three closest towers and I should be able to work out the closest distance to his location."

Ward stared at Skye with a puzzled scowl that was actually quite adorable for the hacker to behold.

"I didn't understand a word of that but okay," he admonished, peering over Skye's shoulder as she continued swiping her finger across the tablet screen.

"Like I said, simple really," she answered, flashing him a cheeky smile, which he intercepted with a smirk of his own.

"I'll get you the number from Dr. McKenzie, but how long will this take?" he pressed, placing one hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently - an almost absently loving gesture that he had grown quite used to making by now.

"Not long at all," she replied, leaning into his touch further but not glancing backwards as she absorbed herself in her work, "it's a system used by 911 operators, so it's designed to be fast."

She grinned as she felt a kiss being pressed to the top of her head. Leaving Skye to locate their missing alien felon, Ward disappeared to prepare for Coulson's return and for the retrieval mission that would surely follow.

Little more than an hour later, Skye watched with a familiar sense of trepidation building inside her as Ward strapped a variety of weaponry to his person, clad in the same black tac gear that May wore.

Coulson finished fastening his protective vest before casting a paternal eye over the three agents who would be remaining behind on the BUS. Neither FitzSimmons or Skye were cleared for field duty, and if Coulson was being honest it was far more reassuring to know that the youngest and greenest agents would be out of harm's way.

"So, you guys can hold the fort down whilst we're gone. Stay on comms., monitor the camera feeds and… FitzSimmons, is the holding cell ready?"

"Yes, sir, all cosy for the wee beastie. With the polarising charge in the room, there'll be no face swapping for him," Fitz acknowledged, proud of the work he and Jemma had accomplished in a short time, especially in light of such scant information.

"Looks like we're set, D.C," Skye said, her eyes suddenly darting to Ward as Simmons handed him an Icer, which had been loaded with rounds containing a toxin known to be deadly to Dire Wraiths. They could only hope it would be as effective on their cousins, should the occasion call for it.

"Dire Wraiths have a protective exoskeleton but, from what we've learned from Dr. McKenzie, this isn't true for the Muuto Wraiths. One shot, that's all it will take… as long as you hit the target, obviously."

Ward nodded, testing the weight of the gun in his hands before jamming it into the holster strapped to his thigh. "I never miss."

At the lingering look Skye shot him, Ward took a step towards her, resting both hands on her shoulders as he peered down into her eyes.

"Last resort, I promise," he murmured before ducking down and kissing her, fast and hard. Despite himself, Coulson found a smile weaving its way across his lips as he watched the young couple, both of whom he had come to consider as his own charges. They deserved their happiness, whenever and wherever they could find it. He was pleased that thus far he had had no need to stand in their way, and he was relatively confident that fact wouldn't change. Grant had a level head on his shoulders and, despite the depths of his feelings for Skye, Coulson was confident that he could maintain a balance that would protect both his fledgling relationship and his established career in S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Okay, May, you get the good doctor and we'll move out," said Coulson, gently squeezing the top of Skye's arm before he turned to Simmons, who was holding out the keys to the SUV in an outstretched hand. Melinda disappeared soundlessly and without comment, whilst Ward rechecked the barrage of weapons and restraints they would be taking with them.

"This whole thing is just so…" Skye began quietly, inclining her head to Fitz, who stood at her side watching their friends and colleagues preparing for the mission ahead. The Scot nodded, folding his arms as he stared at the weapon Ward wielded - the weapon he had had a hand in creating to end the life of a being who was in fact enduring as much suffering as he was capable of causing. A shudder rippled through Fitz's body and he stood straighter in an effort to hide it from Skye.

"They'll try their best," he replied, and of that much he was certain. The team all knew that Coulson hated to let people down, and that was a quality that seemed to have rubbed off on Ward in abundance, thanks to his time with the senior agent.

With May clamped onto her arm, the doctor followed along to the SUV moments later, teary-eyed and yet resigned to the events that must unfold. Though her thoughts were of her nephew, she knew he could not be allowed to hurt any more innocent people. One way or another, it had to end.

Skye hugged her arms around herself as she watched the party clamber into the vehicle. Ward settled into the driver's seat whilst May sat beside him to operate the tablet that would guide them to the coordinates Skye had managed to pinpoint. Coulson paused to help the doctor into the back of the car before disappearing inside himself moments later.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Fitz lamented, his brow furrowed as Skye and Jemma both sidled closer to him. The three friends stood all but huddled together, watching their colleagues depart down the ramp.

"It'll all be fine. I'm sure of it," Jemma stated, her voice exuding much more confidence than her facial expression indicated.

Pursing her lips, Skye tried to dismiss the sense of dread she felt swirling malevolently in her gut. As the SUV finally disappeared from view, she began to walk back towards the lab where their comms. equipment had been set up.

Scrambling after her, FitzSimmons hurried up the metal staircase, the former jabbing his finger at the button that would close the aircraft doors.

The rain continued outside, heavy droplets pounding the asphalt as fork lightning lit up the sky, heralding a crash of thunder that might have given pause to Thor himself.

Stepping out from the shadows the darkness afforded, the young man clad in S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform began to stroll towards the plane, swinging his arms almost merrily as he walked.

Another, much more violent lightning bolt struck the ground as the storm moved nearer. His footsteps quickened, spurred on by the perfect - perhaps clichéd- atmosphere the weather created.

Casting a final look upward as the thunder rolled, Jesse smiled indulgently to himself and strode on to seal the fates of his chosen victims.

Under his breath, he began to sing, _"_ _ _One, two, Jesse's comin' for you…"__


	6. Chapter 6

' _ **Terror Takes the Sound**_

 _ **Before You Make It'**_

 _ **Part Four**_

 _ **Forks, Washington**_

 _ **27**_ _ **th**_ _ **April 2014**_

Not one member of the four person party seemed even remotely surprised to find themselves staring up at the frontage of a retro looking comic book store. With the tablet balanced in one hand, Melinda May rechecked the co-ordinates they had been given and frowned as she realised that they were indeed at the correct location.

"Why does this feel like we're walking into… I don't want to say 'a trap' but…" Coulson began, shooting a tentative glance at the doctor, who was standing at his left side and peering up at the building before her with a deeply furrowed brow.

"No, not possible. He doesn't even know that S.H.I.E.L.D. are looking for him. This is just Jesse being Jesse," Dr. McKenzie said, a note of confidence worming its way into her voice, although her expression remained fraught in contrast. "He's always been fascinated by our heritage and where he came from. He loves comic books, Star Wars, super heroes…"

"Murderous rampages?" May interjected coolly, succeeding in earning herself a scowl from Coulson, who had been doing his best to protect their worried new ally's sensibilities. May found the whole thing to be ludicrous, especially given the woman's blind insistence that her nephew was as innocent as the day was long. She could understand the concept of family loyalty but, to her mind, there was an obvious point at which one had to draw the line and slaughtering a bunch of college students was probably that point.

"If you're worried, I can go in alone," Dr. McKenzie suggested, glancing hopefully at Coulson, "he's probably scared right now. I'm not sure if he's even fully aware of what he's doing."

"In his current state, that may not be the wisest decision…" Coulson began, nodding his head at Ward who was already preparing to enter the basement window. He had placed a set of small electrodes hastily onto each window corner to deactivate any alarm.

After having found the comic book store, the group had ascertained that Jesse must have sought access via the basement, where one of the two painted over windows had been crudely opened. That told Ward that there was unlikely to be much in the way of a state of the art security system, but they'd agreed to play it safe just in case. Given the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. was operating against the wishes of the US government, they couldn't afford to attract police attention.

Using a metal tool specific to the purpose, Ward took only a moment to prise the window open further before shining a flash light into the basement below.

"Sleeping bag, comic books, laptop… take-out boxes…" Ward relayed the items he saw, causing Coulson to clear his throat uncomfortably as he recited the last.

"Like, actual take-out boxes, or…" Coulson shrugged, confused and admittedly curious as to whether the species also ate for pleasure as opposed to simply meeting physiological needs.

"Pizza," Ward clarified, managing to hide the amusement in his voice, which he was certain would not be appreciated by the doctor.

The woman bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, both hands clasped over her heart as she peered down at the window.

"Shouldn't we go inside?" she pressed, looking from Coulson to May for confirmation, "he could be hiding, right?"

"Agent Ward and Agent May will go in, check it out, and then we'll take it from there," said Coulson, resting a soothing arm on the woman's shoulder as he gestured for Ward and May to proceed. The doctor bowed her head and Coulson noted how her body seemed to tremble beneath his fingertips. A pang of sympathy for the woman assailed him but he said nothing, realising that there was very little that he could offer her at that moment. Her nephew's fate and future rested on just how far gone he was, and whether he proved able to listen to reason long enough to be brought under control.

Ward dropped through the window first, landing beside a pile of tattered blankets that had been formed into a bed along with a sleeping bag. He immediately spun around to face the centre of the room with his modified Icer drawn in one hand and his torch brandished in the other. May plopped down at his side seconds later and wasted no time in withdrawing her own side-arm. Although bullets wouldn't kill a Muuto Wraith, FitzSimmons had been fairly certain that a couple of well-placed rounds could buy them some time.

"Jesse McKenzie?" Ward called out, sweeping his flash light beam in a wide arc around the basement. "My name is Agent Grant Ward. I work for an organisation called S.H.I.E.L.D. We specialise in helping extraordinary people… people like you."

Waiting for a response, Ward and May remained motionless, the latter swinging her flashlight towards the door up to the store.

"He's not here," Grant griped, sighing in irritation as he spied an abandoned cell phone on the top of the worn, stained sleeping bag. Bending down to retrieve it, Ward turned it over in his hand. He pressed his thumb to the power button and waited impatiently for it to come to life.

"Looks like he dumped his cell and ran," May speculated, noting the rucksack of clothes and half empty soda bottles that sat next to his makeshift bed. "Must've known we were on to him."

Ward didn't reply, seemingly distracted by swiping his thumb over the controls of the phone. He hastily scoured the contacts list and message banks, finding that both of which were irritatingly empty. As a final thought, he began to search the phone's image gallery and, before May could even enquire as to what he'd found, the younger Specialist had hissed out a tirade of expletives. He was already hoisting himself out of the window and back up to ground level by the time May had regrouped.

"Words, Ward. Use your words," May grumbled, following after him with a sigh of annoyance.

"Coulson, we have to get back to the BUS," Ward stated in a rush, already in the process of grabbing the doctor's arm and beginning to march her back towards the parked SUV, which was out of sight around the corner.

"What did you see?" Coulson demanded, falling into step beside Grant without a moment's hesitation. He had worked with the younger agent long enough to know to trust his judgement calls, and so whilst May muttered about their apparent overreactions, Coulson didn't doubt for a second that Ward was onto something.

"Jesse had pictures stored on his cell," explained Grant, pausing to unlock the car before gesturing emphatically for Dr. McKenzie to get in.

"Wait… I want to hear this!" the woman protested, snatching her arm out of Ward's grip with some difficulty.

"We don't have time!" he roared, finally losing control of his temper, which he had been barely managing to keep in check as precious seconds ticked by.

"Skye and FitzSimmons," Ward relayed, wasting no time in sliding into the driver's seat as he waited for Coulson to bundle the doctor into the car. He'd gunned the ignition before May had even managed to slam the passenger door closed.

"Give that to me," May snapped, her concern for the junior agents expressed in her anger. She grabbed Ward's cell phone out of his hand, leaving him free to drive through the torrential rain.

"Damn storm has knocked the signal out," griped May, rolling her eyes as she noticed Coulson was also attempting to call the team with his own cell. They had been left behind on the plane for their own safety and yet now it appeared that they were proverbial sitting ducks.

Almost immediately Ward's foot dropped down heavy against the accelerator, and May gripped the sides of the seat as her head flew back against the leather padding.

"Uh… Ward?" Coulson began, wincing as he grasped at the back the Specialist's seat and tried to unsuccessfully lean forward to speak to his agent, "there's really poor visibility on the roads, and I…"

Realising the younger man cared very little for road safety given the situation at hand, Coulson shrank back in his seat and readjusted his seatbelt.

Directing his gaze to the wide-eyed doctor, he added kindly, "You uh… you might want to hold on."

 **x-x-x**

Fitz visibly started when another clap of thunder resounded, distracting him from the task at hand, which involved nothing more challenging than buttering bread for the sandwiches Simmons was making.

"It's sounding awfully close," muttered Fitz, frowning as he dipped the knife back into the butter, "we're completely safe in here, right? Like, scientifically speaking…"

He let out a frightened yelp as Skye, who had appeared soundlessly behind him, pinched his waist with a gleeful chuckle.

"What's up, Fitzy?" she giggled, allowing the filthy glare Fitz shot at her to roll off her back, "you're not scared of a little storm, are you?"

Fitz scoffed loudly, slapping another slice of bread down on the kitchen counter as he all but snarled, "Not at all. Bit of thunder… lightning… relentless rain… it's just like home."

"Whatever, you just look a little jumpy," Skye shrugged, reaching over him and ignoring his scowl of displeasure as she pilfered a slice of cheese. She bit into it with a smirk.

"I am not jumpy," he corrected her indignantly, "I'm just on high alert… ready for action… my senses are honed like a finely…"

Suddenly hearing a noise from somewhere deep within the bowels of the aircraft, Fitz paused. "Eh, did you hear that?"

Skye stood motionless for a second and then shook her head.

"Nope," she stated, picking up a slice of tomato and tilting her head back as she dropped it into her mouth.

Fitz nodded, still clearly a little rattled by the storm and the tricks he was sure his mind was playing on him. In hindsight, that horror movie marathon had perhaps been a bad idea.

Suddenly turning around, he found himself looking somewhat red-faced at Skye's rear, as she bent over to rummage through the refrigerator. She was in search of the few remaining cans of soda she had nagged Coulson into adding to their grocery list, much to Ward's disgust.

"Hey, you want a…" she began, turning around to face him, her eyes growing wide as Fitz shushed her. Peering around the kitchen blankly, she ducked her head to capture his gaze, "What? What is it?"

"Shhh…" Fitz pressed his finger to his lips, his eyes turning to face the doorway as the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end.

"The storm appears…" Jemma began hurriedly, striding through the door as Fitz jumped several feet off the floor. He somehow simultaneously managed to spin around to face her, his features contorted into a horrified scream, which the equally startled Simmons echoed.

"Bloody Hell!" he yelled, slamming a hand to his chest as he felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest. "Jemma! You could have… Ughh… You nearly gave us a heart attack!"

"Speak for yourself, princess," Skye drawled, shaking her head as she opened the soda can in her hand, shaking her head in both amusement and disdain.

"Sorry, I didn't realise you were requiring me to yodel before I entered the room," Simmons shot back tartly, peering around Fitz's still trembling form in order to survey his handiwork with the sandwiches.

"I don't need to take this kind of abuse," Fitz said with a faintly hurt expression descending upon his features, "in fact, I…"

He fell abruptly silent, however, as Jemma pressed a finger to her lips. She cocked her head, listening intently for something that had escaped Fitz's notice in his outrage.

"Oh no," Fitz interjected, chuckling as he waggled a finger in Jemma's direction. His eyes narrowed as he glared at her, continuing, "I'm not falling for it. There's no way…"

"Shush!" Jemma hissed, waving her hand at the man in a demand for complete silence. She paused, her ears pricked up and her features screwed into a tight frown as she struggled to pick out the bizarre grinding noise that had captured her attention.

Skye stood motionless, her gaze fixed onto the ground as she too focused on the strange sound emanating from the rear of the plane.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever guys. Desperate, you two are…" Fitz's eyes went wide as Skye slapped her hand over his mouth.

Swallowing hard, Jemma felt a sense of panic begin to rise up from the pit of her stomach, and the now rattled trio all physically startled as Skye's phone began to vibrate in her pocket.

Puffing out a breath, Skye pulled out her phone, almost immediately relieved to see Ward's name flash up on her cell. First swiping her thumb across the screen to connect the call, she then raised it to her ear. "Grant?"

The hiss of static that met her ear made her grit her teeth in irritation, and Skye shook her head as she realised the reception was too poor to even enable her to make out a single word from the caller. She was able to ascertain at the very least that it wasn't her boyfriend on the other end of the phone, which prompted her to shout, "May? May? Is that you? I can't hear you, I…"

"You're breaking up, Captain," Fitz sniggered, deliberately thickening his brogue to add to his joke.

"Really?" Jemma scolded at his elbow, her head shaking in disgust, "you're making jokes now?"

"May, I can't…" Skye continued, suddenly falling quiet as the combination of static and the muffled voice on the other line abruptly stopped. Lip curled in disgust, she dropped her cell onto the nearby couch and turned to face FitzSimmons.

"Okay, so one of us needs to go investigate that noise and, as much as I want to know what it is, I've seen a lot of horror movies, and the person of colour dies first so… you guys are gonna have to come with me," Skye said in a rush, sucking in a deep breath at the end of her near monologue that suggested she wasn't even remotely joking.

"Oh please!" Simmons scoffed indignantly, "you're half Chinese. I'm British. By movie rights I should be the villain. We're always the villain! Always! Do you know how annoying that is?! Just because we might sound more intelligent than the average American, I…"

"Hey!" Skye objected, although her tirade was ended before it had even begun when Fitz seized both her and Jemma by the elbow.

"Ladies…" he huffed, dragging the two women towards the rear of the plane where the hanger doors were located. "Let's just make sure we're not all about to be horrible murdered before we start duking it out over movie clichés, eh?"

"Whatever," Skye muttered as Simmons simultaneously ground out a huff that suggested she was not about to let the argument lie.

Out of a sense of chivalry that had been drummed into him by his mother since he was old enough to utter his first words, Fitz took the lead of the group. They advanced slowly through the corridors of the plane, Skye and Jemma actually setting aside their movie viewing differences in order to grip each other's arms. By the time they reached the staircase that led down to the hangar, the noise, whatever it was, had become near deafening. The sound of the raging storm outside also seemed to have intensified, and Fitz found himself fighting the urge to clap his hands over his ears to drown out the din.

"There!" Skye yelled above the roar of rain and wind, both of which pelted the Bus and the tarmac of the runway they rested on. She pointed towards the hangar door, which appeared to be half opening and closing over and over again. A shower of sparks rained from the top of the door, suggesting that some sort of technical malfunction was responsible for its state.

"Probably storm damage, right?" Jemma called out as the three descended the staircase and set out to temporarily patch up the damage. There was probably little that could be done to completely rectify the problem with the inclement weather, but they would need to work out some kind of quick fix in order to protect the interior of the plane.

Holding up their hands to shelter themselves from the torrential downpour pelting their faces, the trio moved hurriedly to try to close the jarring door. Controls in hand, Fitz muttered under his breath as he stabbed the 'close' button repeatedly. Nothing but the sound of straining mechanics rang out above the din of the storm.

"Wait, guys… what the hell is that?" Skye pointed with a slightly trembling hand at the item jammed in the jaws of the hangar hinge.

Simmons grabbed the mystery item then subsequently slammed her hand over her mouth as she recognised the metal clawed glove she held.

"Oh, bloody hell!" she squealed, tossing the item onto the ground as Fitz finally managed to get the doors to close with a yelp of triumph.

"Oh shit!" Skye's eyes widened, "Somebody please tell me that's not what I think it is."

"What's not what you…" Fitz began, his eyes dropping to the item that Jemma had dropped so quickly that he hadn't had time to register its identity. He fell abruptly silent, his eyes growing so round and wide that it would have been comical under any other circumstances.

"No… it can't…" he stammered, apparently the first of the group to regain a shred of composure.

"I'm calling Ward," Skye stated in a tone that resembled a whimper, already digging in her pocket for her phone. She pulled it out and raised it to eye level, only to release a frustrated snarl when she realised that she had yet to regain service.

"Let's just stay calm. We're safe and sound in a great, big, fortified metal box," Fitz said, striving for a calm note to his own voice, which actually trembled horribly.

"But we don't know who else is in this metal box with us!" Simmons pointed out in a panic. She and Skye clasped hands and huddled closer as if their lives depended on it. "We know how this thing works, Fitz, it separates the weak from the strong and, well, we're the weak."

Fitz's brow furrowed and he looked visibly appalled at the suggestion, "We most certainly are not! We're the smartest people on this plane, thank you very much! And Skye's here too."

"Hey!" Skye protested, shooting Fitz a dirty look, which appeared to leave him unaffected.

Skye rubbed her forehead, her phone still clutched in her free hand, "Jemma's right. We're the weakest links here. Ward has taken down twelve guys without breaking a sweat, May's the freakin' Cavalry, and even Coulson was a field agent. Something's on this plane with us, guys… something really, really not good!"

Appearing suitably panicked, Simmons suggested, "So perhaps we get off the plane, yes?"

Skye bobbed her head, "Yes. Good. Unless… unless it's waiting outside for us, cos it knows we'll try to escape."

Fitz ran his hands through his hair, panic evident in his strangled tone, "Well it's either off or on the bloody plane, Skye. One or the other."

"I don't know!" she yelped back, "I'm not great under pressure, okay?!"

Simmons sucked in a deep, steadying breath as she raked her hands through her hair.

"Why don't we go to the lab? We can seal ourselves in until the others get back?" Jemma said, some colour returning to her cheeks as she found herself relieved by her own idea.

"Good, great idea!" enthused Fitz, already starting out towards the closed double doors of the lab, which was in total darkness due to the time of the evening.

"We're probably just being daft, right?" Jemma said as she paused to tap in the security code at the keypad. The doors slid open with their familiar, comforting whoosh, and the trio scurried inside without another word being exchanged.

"Totally," Skye agreed after a pause. "We're totally overreacting."

Fitz nodded vigorously as he attended to the inner keypad, sealing the doors behind them and then activating the security protocol that would lock down the lab from the inside. The glass was after all bullet proof; Fitz would stake his life that nothing was getting inside with them. He hit the light switch before making his way over to the girls, his heart still madly thrumming.

"Okay, now what?" Skye queried, pulling her phone out of her pocket and cursing under her breath as she watched her signal dip in and out. "Crap."

Pulling the blinds down on the lab windows so that they were not standing in a glorified goldfish bowl, Simmons turned to her friends with an encouraging smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "Not to worry, I'm sure the gang are on their way back as we speak. No need to panic, we're as safe as houses in here!"

As if on cue, the lab and indeed the rest of the plane was plunged back into darkness, eliciting a yelp of surprise and dismay from all three inhabitants. They quickly huddled together and dived underneath a desk as though they were under direct fire.

"Now what?" Fitz hissed, "we might be safe in here but we're also bloody sitting ducks!"

"We wait," Jemma stammered, "we wait and they'll come back for us. They'd never…"

Skye's features suddenly froze into a mask of sheer terror, and she reached out both hands simultaneously to grip her friends' forearms.

"What… was… that…?" she demanded in a whisper, her entire body going rigid. In unison, Jemma and Fitz gulped, their heads turning to survey the back of the lab, from which the loud and insistent tap, tap, tapping sound could be heard.

The long, deadly talons of Freddy's one remaining glove clacked out a taunting rhythm against the further most cupboard door.

"I'm your boyfriend now, Skye!" he cackled, his scarred face, (a perfect reflection of the fictional character it had been borrowed from), twisting into a grin that chilled the agents to their core.

Fitz was the first to scream - a high pitched, fearful yelp tearing free from his throat as he sprang to his feet and hauled both the women up after him.

"Open the bloody doors!" Jemma shrieked, as Freddy/Jesse tossed back his head and laughed. Perhaps for dramatic effect, he raised his metal claw adorned hand and slashed at the air. Then, he lunged forwards.

Jemma could barely press the short security code into the key pad, and the tugging on her sleeve and insistent whining of her friends was not aiding her in her task.

"Will you two get off me?" she shouted, relief washing over her as the lab doors opened, allowing them their escape. The trio ran full pelt towards the living quarters of the plane, their feet clanging against the metal stairs as they fled.

"Wait…" Skye swallowed hard, suddenly drawing to a halt when she realised there was nobody behind them, "we need to get off this plane, you guys. What are we gonna do back here? Hide under our beds?"

Fitz nodded his head vigorously, "That sounds absolutely grand to me."

He winced as Jemma slapped him across the back of the head. "No, Skye's right. We stand much more of a chance if we get off this thing. He's got us trapped like… like rats in a maze."

The sound of manic laughter drifted down the corridor, causing the three agents to exchange looks of extreme panic. Jemma felt her chest growing tight as she struggled to regulate her breathing. Fitz reached out and grasped her hand, ever the comforting companion to whatever plight she faced. That was just how FitzSimmons worked.

"He's coming this way," Skye whispered, her bottom lip trembling as she cocked her head in an attempt to discern just how close Jesse was. The sound of metal screeching against metal made them all wince and almost groan aloud. It suggested that Jesse was dragging his one remaining clawed glove along the wall of the corridor as he sought them out. He was clearly enjoying the chase, and relishing taunting them. Of course, that would make perfect sense Skye reasoned, since he needed them to be afraid in order for his final meal to prove fulfilling.

"We need to hide," Fitz hissed in alarm, already searching out a suitable place in the lounge to seek cover with the girls. Skye shook her head, her eyes growing wider.

"No, he'll find us," she argued, keeping her voice low, despite her mounting fear.

"What do you suggest then?" Jemma demanded, latching onto Skye's arm now with her free hand as the sound of raucous laughter drew closer and closer. A chill swept down her spine and she found herself helpless to prevent a whimper from passing her lips.

"We need to fight our way out," Skye said determinedly, although her voice still trembled in betrayal of her true feelings on the matter. She told herself that it was certainly what May would do, or Grant, or even Coulson; none of the more senior agents would go down without a fight, and Skye would be damned if she wasn't going to make them proud by at least trying to do the same.

"Behind the couch," Fitz instructed, waving his hand madly as he attempted to usher the women from out in the open, where they would be easy pickings for the super-charged, clearly psychotic alien.

"We can't kill him like any old madman," Jemma whispered to Skye as they took refuge behind the enormous couch. "He may look like Freddy Kruger but he's all Muuto Wraith underneath!"

Fitz lingered out in the centre of the lounge just a moment longer. He spied the i-pad that had been abandoned on the coffee table and snatched it up. They could at least turn the tides in their own favour if they could control the basic functions of the Bus, including the lighting and the locks on the doors.

Weighing Jemma's words over in her mind, Skye suddenly gripped her friends' shoulders tighter, eliciting a silent gasp of pain from each of them in the process. "We can't kill him like any old crazy, but maybe… we kill him like the movie character?"

Jemma shook her head, understanding for once escaping her. Fitz squinted against the darkness as he tried to unlock the doors of the plane with the i-pad controls. Of course, whilst he could remotely operate the hangar door to open it, reaching it with a psychopath standing in their path was another matter entirely.

"No, no. I told you, Dire Wraiths are hardy buggers, I can't imagine this species being much different. We'd struggle to even make a dent without a weapon of some sort and brute strength… two things none of us here possess!"

Skye shook her head adamantly, although neither of the scientists could make out the gesture. "So maybe it snaps him out of his… murder rage, or whatever. Jesse's so caught up in the moment that we need to like… slap him across the face… figuratively."

"So?" Fitz began with caution, wondering where Skye was heading with her point. He assumed it was nowhere he'd be remotely comfortable with. He was certain Ward and May had to be on their way back to the Bus by now, and he was happy enough to wait it out and let them deal with the murderer who prowled their halls. As he'd explained to Ward earlier, he and Simmons were the brains of the operation, and that didn't include any form of fisty-cuffs.

"So…" Skye said, trying desperately to recall just how that particular movie had ended, "we set him on fire!"

"You want to set someone on fire?" Jemma repeated aghast, her eyes widening at the idea. She could hardly see Skye bobbing her head quickly in agreement.

"That's exactly what we're gonna do," she stated, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Come on, guys. If it's him or us, I pick us."

"Fair point," muttered Fitz, finally managing to remotely slide the locks on the lounge door in place. "We've got a few minutes before he manages to get through that door with his big old Wolverine claw. What do we do?"

"Kitchen," Skye declared, yanking Jemma onto her feet and darting towards the kitchen area, "we're going to need alcohol and a lighter."

Scampering along behind the hacker, the scientists began to hurriedly search the kitchen for matches or a lighter. Holding aloft a small kitchen blowtorch, Simmons released a triumphant 'aha' coupled with a beaming smile that sent a shudder down Fitz's spine.

"I know it's in here somewhere…" Skye muttered, her body half inside one of the lower kitchen cabinets. She tossed all manner of herbs, pasta, rice, and canned goods out of the way in search of the bottle of tequila she had stowed there the week before.

"Got it!" she suddenly announced, her tone a little disappointed as she brandished the large bottle of expensive liquor.

"Gotta say, I was planning on drinking this, not using it to flambé an alien…" at the sound of the metal talons raking the door, she added, "but plans change, right?!"

"Are you certain this is going to work?" Simmons demanded, her brow furrowing as she listened to Jesse attacking the control panel that would work the sliding door that currently barred his way from the lounge.

"Like a solid sixty five percent," Skye replied, shooting a worried glance at the door, which would surely open at any second and allow their would-be killer access to the room.

"Sixty five percent?" Fitz all but shrieked, "statistically speaking, that's just terrible."

"It's what we're working with, Fitz," retorted Skye with obvious irritation, "now stop bitching at me, be a man, and… go hide behind the couch again."

"Got the blowtorch?" Skye checked, nodding in approval as Fitz held it aloft, primed and ready to go. Jemma had briefly bristled at the idea of her beloved kitchen equipment being used to scorch a serial killer, as opposed to burnishing sugar topped crème brulee, but it was a necessary sacrifice.

Placing a steadying hand on her own chest, Skye glanced down at the bottle of tequila in her hand. With a shrug, she took a healthy gulp of the amber liquid. She barely had time to wince at the burn in her throat before she heard the door to the lounge area finally give way.

"Ohhhhh," Jemma clamped her eyes shut for a moment before releasing a pained sigh. She stole over to the doorway and peeped her head around the jamb. Eyes wide as she saw Jesse stumbling in her direction, thrashing madly with his claw, she waved with a forced smile. "Hello? Yes? Mr. Kruger? Over here! Don't I look… stab-able?"

With Jemma serving as a distraction, Skye darted across the room and took up her position behind the arm of the couch with the tequila, which she had decanted into a plastic mixing bowl.

Jesse tossed back his head only long enough to let out a maniacal cackle, which set the hairs on the nape of Skye's neck standing erect. She waited in her hiding place, biding her time, as she listened to the sound of their wannabe-Freddy stumbling across the lounge. Needless to say, he did not possess the same level of stealth as the movie dream demon, and he bashed into every piece of furniture between he and Jemma as he fought his way towards her.

As he neared Simmons, Fitz appeared to panic, leaping up from behind the couch next to Skye and yelling frantically, "Oi, arse-face, this way!"

Groaning her irritation at Fitz's sudden diversion from the plan, Skye waited until Freddy/ Jesse had stopped in front of the couch before she jumped up and flung the contents of the bowl into his face. The alcohol drenched his upper torso immediately and Jesse actually spluttered a little in shock, breaking character for the first time. Noting this, Skye felt just the faintest glimmer of hope that perhaps their plan may yet work. They were admittedly grasping at straws after all.

"Now!" Skye hollered, barely just managing to dance out of the way of the metal talons that reached for her. Instead, they raked across her chest, managing only to rip a gash in her shirt.

"Oh dear Lord…" Simmons whimpered, emerging from behind the doorway of the kitchen, but nonetheless she flicked the switch of her blowtorch and brought the flame to life. Jesse's shirt was the first thing to catch light and he stumbled backwards a few places, momentarily forgetting his wicked glove as he smacked at the flames beginning to consume him. His eyes grew wide in fright and he let out a screech that was inhuman.

Eyes wide as the flames began to envelope the stricken alien, Skye and Fitz stood side by side in awe of the display.

"What the hell did you throw into that mixing bowl?" she demanded. She had noted the small vial of blue liquid that Fitz had haphazardly tossed into the receptacle before she had poured all of her tequila into the mix, and now her curiosity was certainly piqued.

"Oh, just the prototype for a wee accelerant I've been working on."

Shooting him a sideways glance, the hacker quirked both eyebrows, "Uh-huh."

Jesse roared and swept his arms backwards and forwards, leaving smoky impressions of his blazing limbs in the air. He continued to scream and Skye found herself almost feeling sorry for the kid.

"Time to put the beastie out of its misery?" Fitz enquired, holding one end of the fire blanket as Skye gripped the other.

"L-look…" Jemma stuttered, unable to believe her own eyes as, through the smoke and flames, she watched the skin of Freddy Kruger literally peel away to reveal the countenance of young Jesse beneath. It was like a scene from a horror movie in itself and Jemma's stomach lurched, threatening to spill its contents on the floor.

"Now! Now!" Skye encouraged, barely registering the fact that a familiar voice was yelling her name as she tackled Jesse with the blanket. She and Fitz swept him easily to the floor with their combined weight and began to smother the fire. Before it was fully extinguished, the boy's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell into unconsciousness.

Gasping, Fitz patted at the last of the flames. When he was certain that they had all been put out, he slowly and carefully withdrew the blanket from Jesse's body, which lay prone and naked in the centre of the lounge given the fact that all his clothing had burned away. The wig that had adorned his head had somehow managed to avoid calamity but, as Jesse lay unmoving, it dropped onto the carpet.

"Skye!" Grant shouted, careering down the hallway and bursting into the lounge to find the three other agents peering down at the charred, blistered figure of the renegade alien that had been hunting them.

Panting heavily as he sagged against the couch, Fitz wafted his hand in Ward's direction, "It's alright… we handled things."

Leaping across the small room as Ward strode towards her, Skye enveloped herself in his arms, still shaking from the rush of fear and adrenaline that was coursing through her veins.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Ward demanded, watching as May and Coulson examined the murderer lying at their feet. May pressed two fingers to his scorched neck in search of a pulse and then nodded at Coulson when she found one.

Placing his hand to her cheek, Ward lifted Skye's gaze, not content with her simple reassurance as he scanned her body for any signs of injury. His fingers wove through the claw marks in her shirt, and he was visibly relieved to find no sign of blood on the fabric.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she reassured him, happy to melt into his body. Pressing a kiss against her lips, Ward frowned when he drew back.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked askance, a half smile on his face that more than betrayed his confusion.

Skye arched an eyebrow and shot him an incredulous glare, "Uh, hello? We've been trapped on a plane with a murderous alien dressed like freakin' Freddy Kruger, so… you bet your ridiculously fine ass I've been drinking."

"Sorry I asked," Ward replied, his gaze then drifting to FitzSimmons, who were embracing each other exuberantly, obviously glad to still be alive. "You guys both in one piece too?"

"Oh, we're splendid," Jemma called back, her tone almost on the verge of hysteria, "a tad traumatised but otherwise… just bloody brilliant."

The four friends stood back against the wall as May and Coulson carefully manoeuvred the unconscious and now bald alien through the doorway, under the watchful gaze of his aunt. The doctor looked upon the scene with tears swimming in her eyes, and Skye felt a pang of sympathy for the woman, who was certainly not the monster they had first assumed her to be.

"Hey," called out Skye, drawing Dr. McKenzie's eyes to her. She offered the woman a thin smile, which the doctor was clearly unable to return. "Coulson helps people. It's kind of his bag. I'm sure he'll do his best for Jesse."

Nodding her head sadly, the woman cast one final glance around the assembled agents before she followed behind May. Coulson had already summoned a S.H.I.E.L.D. team, who were now busily transporting her nephew to the nearest surviving agency medical facility.

Suddenly spying a rogue flame flickering on the carpet, Ward stamped his foot down heavily. When he lifted his boot again, he noted with trepidation that a large, blackened hole appeared to have been burned into the floor of Coulson's cherished plane.

Releasing a weary breath, Skye glanced around at her friends and shrugged. "Okay, now what?"

"Now," Ward began, his brow creased worriedly as he surveyed the damage, "we find a really big floor rug."

As if on cue, the three agents all pointed wildly at each other, and it was with a patented roll of his eyes that Ward was greeted to a chorus of, "It was her idea!"

Ward blew out a breath from between pursed lips, momentarily pleased that his patience was beginning to increase of late. Sometimes, dealing with FitzSimmons and Skye at the same time was like trying to wrangle a group of smarter than average pre-schoolers with a penchant for running with scissors.

"At least everyone is safe, that's the main thing," he said, frowning when Fitz bit back a laugh, which he attempted to then disguise as a strangled cough behind his fist.

"Absolutely," Fitz chirruped in apparent agreement, although when Ward wrapped his arm around Skye and began to steer her back to her bunk to change her ruined shirt, the scientist added under his breath, " _Dad_."

Later that evening, the team, minus May (who had decided to extricate herself from proceedings), were assembled once again to watch a movie, as was becoming somewhat of a tradition of late.

Carrying an enormous bowl of popcorn in her hand, Skye meandered down the hall towards the lounge area, a smile illuminating her features as Ward met her at the opposite end.

Stepping into his outstretched arm, Skye sighed contentedly. Ward slipped his arm around her waist, careful not to disturb the bowl she balanced against her hip.

"I was proud of you today, Rookie," he stated, kissing her forehead as an afterthought, "as your S.O."

He quirked an eyebrow and smiled wryly before he added, "As your boyfriend, I was pretty damn scared."

Leaning up on the tips of her toes, Skye pressed her lips to his. They melted into slow, languid kisses quickly, and a pleasant warmth began to pool in the pit of Skye's stomach. It was a welcome change to the sickening fear that had taken root there earlier.

Her forehead resting against his, Skye said quietly, "Hey, almost dying once is enough for me, buddy."

Ward's features darkened as the smell of copper hanging in the air and the feel of a cold, cement floor beneath his palms crashed through his mind. He pushed back the memories with practiced ease, but they rattled him nonetheless. Since Skye had come into his life and turned everything upside down and inside out, Ward found that he was less unflappable than he had once been. Coulson looked upon the changes as a blessing, which Grant understood given the fact that the man had been privy to the ins and outs of his complicated history.

"Come on, the guys are waiting," Skye said, tugging on Ward's arm to drag him around the doorway and into the lounge. Coulson, Fitz and Simmons were already assembled on the couch, all clad in pyjamas and slippers, much to Skye's amusement. Jemma had claimed it had taken her the better part of an hour to wash the stench of burning serial killer out of her hair.

"So, what are we watching?" asked Coulson, his excitement actually palpable as he leaned forwards in his seat upon seeing Skye and Ward. He rarely found himself able to join the kids for these bonding exercises, given the fact his paperwork had a tendency to mount up. It was certainly serving as a welcome distraction from everything occurring with Hydra and John Garret, and Coulson was thankful for that at least. His mind had never been far from those betrayals recently, and they had been chasing away sleep for the better part of weeks.

"Okay," Skye began brightly, suddenly pulling her phone out of her pocket in preparation for 'casting' the movie of their choice, "how about… The Conjuring? Maybe that Amityville remake? Hellooo, Ryan Reynolds's abs… or… ooooh, this looks kind of fun, giant intergalactic spiders!"

Simmons' face paled, "Spiders? Giant spiders? Skye, after today's events I can assure you that I have more than enough material for my mind to create some top-notch nightmares without bringing enormous arachnids into the mix."

Fitz nodded, holding up his hand gingerly, "Yeah, I mean… I'm totally up for a rom-com. Or a drama. Or… and… now hear me out for a sec… we could watch a Christmas movie? Yeah? I know you girls love your festive films."

Skye narrowed her eyes, leaning into Ward's embrace as he sat practically melded to her side, his arm around her and his hand settled on her hip.

"Seriously, guys? We're bailing from our watch list? You know that the only reason we knew what to do today was because we spend our time watching sucky, third rate horror movies, right? I mean, if we had like… actual good taste in movies, we'd have been so f…" she paused and caught herself quickly, "in a not good place."

Simmons and Fitz exchanged looks, their reluctance and weariness written plainly across their expressions. Ward could almost take pity upon them, however he had to admit that Skye had a point. Their tactic of shocking Jesse out of his psychosis did seem to have saved their lives. Wisely though, he chose to remain silent on the subject and allow the three youngest team members to duke it out between themselves. Although, he realised, adopting that philosophy presented the very real danger that they would settle nothing that evening. Shrugging his shoulders, he reached into the popcorn bowl for a hearty handful.

"Skye…" Simmons started, tiredly, her tone and gaze beseeching, "please, could we just…"

"Monopoly," Coulson interjected, beaming as he held aloft the game box, which suggested he had actually bought the Avengers themed version of the family classic. Ward suppressed the urge to laugh.

"Monopoly?" Skye repeated, crestfallen.

"Yes, Monopoly, bloody grand idea!" Fitz said, visibly relieved to have been spared from mutant, flesh eating, alien spiders. Given the way their lives were turning out of late, there was a very real possibility that such creatures would rear their heads in future anyway.

"We should prepare ourselves, now more than ever, we don't know what else is out there!" Skye huffed, shaking her head as Coulson hunkered down in front of the coffee table and began to set up the board.

"I'm the wee doggy," said Fitz firmly, already ignoring Skye and her petulant sulking.

"I thought you liked board games?" Ward asked quietly, addressing his question so only Skye could hear. The team seemed momentarily pre-occupied with setting up the game, allowing the couple a few minutes of privacy.

Shrugging, she reached up and pressed her palm to his jaw, leaning closer so she could whisper in his ear.

"I like kicking your ass at Battleship, but…" biting her bottom lip and looking up at him from beneath a fan of dark lashes, she admitted, "I guess I may have exaggerated how much I liked games, mainly because it meant you weren't making me do a billion push-ups in the gym, and… I just liked spending time with you."

Ward seemed surprised by her admission; it wasn't often someone had commented on enjoying his company, and back when he had first been assigned as Skye's S.O. they hadn't exactly been on the best of terms, despite any initial physical attraction.

"You did?" He frowned, caught off guard by her comment, and Skye's smile grew wider as she noted the pleased, almost incredulous expression that settled on his face.

"Yeah, I did," she whispered, inclining her head so the tip of their noses touched, "and I know you pretended to be all 'grrrr' and pissy and cold, and like, totally shut-off and incapable of real human emotion… but I know you were in to me. Subconsciously. Deep down. Like, way, way down."

"It was buried pretty far," he teased in response, managing easily to dodge the half-hearted punch that Skye aimed at his shoulder. When his chuckling had subsided, Ward drew her hands into his and squeezed her fingers tenderly.

"How about I make you a deal, Rookie?" he suggested, arching one brow and shooting Skye such a smouldering look that her heart hitched for just a second.

"Go on," she said smoothly, intrigued but intending to appear nonchalant.

"We play Monopoly and if you win we cancel all training for tomorrow and marathon horror movies back to back," he stated, unable to hide a smirk as he saw how Skye's brown eyes lit up. However, she bit her lip the next moment, sensing the catch coming.

"And if you win?" she asked, cocking her head to evaluate him closely. Ward managed to iron out any amusement from his features, which only succeeded in visibly annoying Skye even more.

"If I win, we do whatever I want tomorrow," he said, his tone growing slightly husky as he brushed his lips against the shell of her ear, "maybe that's dawn to dusk training, maybe it's other, more mutually enjoyable forms of exercise."

Almost choking on her own saliva, Skye shot Ward a half incredulous look. His responding grin told her all that she needed to know.

Rubbing her hands together, and barely managing to resist the urge to spit on them first, Skye hunkered down in front of the coffee table, her eyes on the game board and the prize. She was pretty certain that either way she was a winner in the scenario that Ward had spelled out, although she knew already which one she preferred.

"Alright, children," she enthused, a mischievous twinkle present in her eyes, "prepare to get your asses kicked."

Ward noted how she never specified exactly by whom.


End file.
